


Gravitational Forces

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: Drama & Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-11
Updated: 2010-10-24
Packaged: 2019-04-19 20:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 91,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14244987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: based on a prompt: Quinn and Rachel start to get over their animosity and become friends. Quinn likes Rachel. Rachel likes Quinn. Quinn senses a mutual attraction and starts to push for something more, but Rachel just won't. At first Quinn thinks it might be because Rachel doesn't like girls, but she sees Rachel sort of intimate with Santana and Brittany and Quinn confronts Rachel about what the fuck is up. Mucho angsty conversations, tears, etc and then Rachel admits that Quinn's sister molested and raped her for years when Quinn's sister babysat her before going off to college and Quinn just reminds Rachel too much of the sister for Rachel to ever go there with her.***Faberry in which Quinn's older sister has molested Rachel. Again. this one was a prompt, okay?! Angst meter: HIGHWarnings for: sexual abuse. It's also worse because the victim has convinced herself she is in love with the perpetrator. But she gets away in the end





	1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Gravitational Forces  
**Rating:** R  
**Length:** 82,362  
**Spoilers:** Through Grilled Cheesus  
**Summary:** based on a prompt: Quinn and Rachel start to get over their animosity and become friends. Quinn likes Rachel. Rachel likes Quinn. Quinn senses a mutual attraction and starts to push for something more, but Rachel just won't. At first Quinn thinks it might be because Rachel doesn't like girls, but she sees Rachel sort of intimate with Santana and Brittany and Quinn confronts Rachel about what the fuck is up. Mucho angsty conversations, tears, etc and then Rachel admits that Quinn's sister molested and raped her for years when Quinn's sister babysat her before going off to college and Quinn just reminds Rachel too much of the sister for Rachel to ever go there with her.

"You even smell like her."

<http://community.livejournal.com/rq_meme/963.html?thread=289219#t289219>

Due to how clear that prompt is, I think the warnings for this story are obvious, but: **potential triggers for childhood sexual abuse perpetrated by a reactive offender,**. It’s not super detailed, but it’s graphic in terms that it is **bad**. And I think some of the details might make some people squirm. Also warnings for substance abuse which causes impairment in one’s capacity to appropriately parent. Also, chapter 6 has warnings for suicidal ideation (but no attempt, okay? NO ATTEMPT!

Also, yes, this story ends happily. Some might call it “bittersweet” but I call it “as-happy-as-a-story-is-going-to-end-when-the-premise-is-one-protagonist’s-sibling-sexually-abusing-the-other-protagonist.

And despite the premise, this story is mostly un-angsty.

P.S. I concede the perpetrator allowing victim confrontation is unrealistic, but it almost never happens and I just felt like doing it. Also, the confrontation is pretty minimal and I don’t know how realistic it is because I’ve never been in a position to facilitate a situation like that. And it’s not a real confrontation either. I dunno. You’ll see.

\--

* * *

 

 

It was likened to a ‘miracle’ and both Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry had to concede that their quasi-friendship was sort of miraculous given all their bad history and their mutual tendency to hurt one another. It wasn’t water into wine or anything, but it was still something to marvel at. They weren’t going to be commended by Jesus for exercising some basic human compassion and kindness toward one another, but at least they were civil.

“We’ve matured,” they’d joke with practiced ease any time anyone asked.

Quinn had to admit that it felt good to have Rachel look at her and smile warmly instead of look at her with a mix of hostility and something else that Quinn couldn’t quite articulate. They weren’t the best of friends or even that close, but it was so much better than what it used to be and Quinn had to admit that it made her life easier. It would be utter exaggeration to say that her life improved drastically because of Rachel, but life was just easier without a nemesis. This was shocking to no one other than Quinn. (And possibly Santana, but unlike Quinn, Santana had a best friend like Brittany and was therefore utterly indifferent to the fact of having multiple nemeses.)

\--

It was a cliché probably started by _The Breakfast Club_ , but they became friendlier over detention. At least, that was the start of it.

Things had been okay--not good, but okay, since the middle of their sophomore year though by the end of it, Quinn had more important things to concern herself with, like the parasite growing in her belly which was sucking all the calcium from her bones and then turned into a baby which sucked out all the love in her heart right before she gave her away. She saw Rachel periodically through the intervening summer between losing miserably at Regionals and the start of their junior year, but it was incidental. Just a “oh hello” in passing and nothing more.

By the time school and glee resumed junior year, Quinn thought they’d just pick up where they left off-- cordiality barely masking increasingly muted hostility. And it was like that for a couple weeks, but then they got stuck in a detention during the first month back at school-- both of them for being tardy to their first period which they shared, though they’d shared all their classes that year. They’d shared all their classes since freshman year. It was a big, fat conspiracy.

Quinn had arrived a few minutes before Rachel and was still trying to plead her case to Mr. Varela when Rachel walked in. Quinn thought that Rachel would back her up and they could get out of going to room A-2 to get reprimanded, since Rachel could talk her way out of almost anything with the teachers. But when Mr. Varela told Rachel to get to A-2, Rachel turned around and walked out of the room without discussion or complaint and Quinn had no choice but to give up and follow suit.

“Way to go just giving up,” Quinn said a little irritably as she and Rachel walked to A-2. Tardiness was cause for detention and she hated detention.

“He’s very inflexible,” Rachel said quietly. “I didn’t feel like expending the energy on such a fruitless and futile endeavor.”

Quinn sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”

They made it through the school day and Quinn deeply resented the intrusion of detention into her schedule.

It was the two of them with a few unlucky fellow tardy students and a smattering of frequent flyers. Quinn was bored-- she’d left her cell phone at home by accident that day (running late had its downfall) and since it was still the first month of school, she was more or less caught up in all her classes. There was not a single other soul in the classroom she would have deigned to speak to, and so that left only Rachel.

She tried to avoid it at first, of course. She looked through her textbooks, reviewed her notes and even read ahead, but she was _not_ that nerdy (Rachel, on the other hand, did appear to be that nerdy) and so out of sheer desperation for entertainment, she passed Rachel a note.

Mr. Witmer was the proctor of detention that day and was well-known for his acute hearing, but terrible vision.

_What are you doing?_

Quinn passed the note to Rachel who looked at the folded piece of notebook paper as though it might Slushie her. She looked at it suspiciously, turned to look at Quinn questioningly and then poked the note with her pen, testing it. Rachel’s forehead was furrowed and her tongue was ever so slightly poking out, like she was in deep contemplation, as though it were possible for that piece of paper to become an incendiary device. Rachel Berry was deeply suspicious about ridiculous things (like potential incendiary devices masquerading as passed notes in detention) but evidently hopelessly naïve about things she should possess a natural suspicion for (like cute boys from the opposing team seeking her out).

Quinn sighed and rolled her eyes. It was also a little insulting because she thought she and Rachel had become civil enough to one another that passing Rachel a note wouldn’t incur so much suspicion.

Rachel opened the note and read it. She made a face and stared at Quinn and held up the book she was reading, as though it should have been apparent, which, to be fair to Rachel and to Quinn’s chagrin, it really should have been because, _duh_. But Quinn was bored and desperate for something to occupy her time, even if that thing was Rachel Berry.

Rachel refolded the note and resumed reading her book.

Quinn huffed. She took another piece of notebook paper out and wrote another note.

_I know you can read, Manhands. **What** are you reading?”_

She passed the note and once again Rachel looked at the note and at Quinn with suspicion. She held up the book long enough for Quinn to read the title. The blonde leaned forward, expecting to see some Barbra Streisand biography or some self-help book on achieving fame before the age of 20, but instead she saw Rachel was reading _East of Eden_.

 _What’s it about_?

Quinn knew she was pushing it, but she was _bored_.

Rachel looked at her skeptically, but wrote back.

 _It’s difficult to explain, Quinn. The story is quite involved_.

Quinn rolled her eyes.

 _Try_.

Rachel didn’t try. Instead, she cracked the spine of the book forwards and then backwards. Then she ripped the book in half and passed the first half to Quinn and continued to read the remaining half.

Quinn stared at Rachel for a moment but took the book and began reading. She was pleasantly surprised that she liked it (pleasantly because Rachel seemed to like it and Quinn was not at a point in her life where she could admit she liked anything that Rachel liked, despite a lot of evidence indicating they had similar tastes in a myriad of things like boys).

After the two hour detention passed, she handed the book back to Rachel.

“I didn’t mean for you to deface it.”

Rachel shrugged. “At the time it seemed to be the simplest course of action.”

Quinn suppressed the urge to roll her eyes because of Rachel’s complete inability to speak like a normal person. “Well, thanks.”

“Sure.”

They walked out of the classroom, each of them making a deliberate attempt _not_ to walk next to one another, but since they were both walking in the same direction toward the parking lot, it was more awkward _not_ to walk together than to walk together.

“Going home?” Quinn asked, just making conversation.

“I have some stuff I need to do,” Rachel answered vaguely, “but yes, I will eventually go home tonight.”

“Yeah, well…great,” Quinn said. She reached her car. “I’ll see you.”

“Yes, see you.”

Quinn got into her car, started the engine and started the drive out of the parking lot. She passed Rachel as she did, and sighed and slowed down.

“Do you need a ride?” Quinn called out the window, because she knew that Rachel was such an incredible loser that she was already a junior in high school and still a couple months away from her sixteenth birthday.

Rachel shook her head. “No, thank you. That’s not necessary.”

“Suit yourself.”

Quinn drove away but caught a glimpse of Rachel in her rearview mirror as she turned out of the parking lot.

\--

They somehow sat next to each other in glee the next day and they shared a look over something ridiculously goofy that came out of Finn’s mouth, their what-the-fuck expressions mirroring one another. There was a vague look of self-disappointment reflected on each other their faces, since they’d each dated the goofball at some point. But then Finn laughed and neither Quinn nor Rachel could resist a tiny chuckle of affection for the doofus, because while he was a little dim, he was also very sweet.

They shook their heads, looked at one another, shared a glance and then looked away.

\--

Glee choreography routinely put them in proximity to one another and some of the tension in their relationship bled out because of it.

By Halloween, they were acknowledging one another in the hallways and in classes, rather than ignoring each other.

\--

Rachel missed a week of school before Thanksgiving, and by then, their friendship had progressed to the point that Rachel felt comfortable asking to borrow Quinn’s class notes, since they shared all the same classes. They stood side by side the day before Thanksgiving as Rachel meticulously photocopied all of Quinn’s laboriously written notes in the school library after the end of the school day.

Rachel looked a little wan and tired and Quinn wondered what was the point of coming back for one day, but things tended not to make sense with Rachel Berry.

“So are you going anywhere for Thanksgiving?”

Rachel was quiet. “No,” she said. “We aren’t really a holiday family.”

“Oh.”

“Are you going anywhere?”

“No, but my sister is coming home. So at least I won’t eat everything in sight.” Quinn laughed softly. “My mom is a really good cook.”

Rachel chuckled. “We’re a family committed to take-aways. When I was little, one of my dads tried to make the turkey.” She paused. “But he left all the liver and giblets inside and it turned out pretty terrible.”

Quinn frowned. “Why does that sound so familiar to me?”

“Your sister probably told you about it,” Rachel said. “She used to babysit me.”

“Oh yeah,” Quinn said. “I remember. My dad used to say that your dads were going to pay for her college tuition.”

Rachel smiled. “She was really awesome. She came over the day after Thanksgiving and when I told her about it, she brought over leftovers from your house for me on Saturday.”

Quinn chuckled. “Yeah, she is. She’s coming home for Thanksgiving, you know. Her husband is in Japan for a while. You should come by and say hello. I bet she’d like to see you.”

“No,” Rachel said quickly. “She probably doesn’t even remember me.”

Quinn looked at her oddly. “You were like the only kid she babysat for, I’m sure she does.”

“It’s okay,” Rachel said. “I don’t want to intrude on your family time.” She finished photocopying the last of the notes.

“Well, give me a call. I mean, I know she remembers you. And I’m sure she’d like to see you.”

Rachel laughed softly. “I’m sure she doesn’t. Anyway. Thank you,” Rachel said quietly, passing the last notebook back to Quinn.

There was something subdued in the way Rachel spoke, and Quinn wasn’t sure if it was the setting-- Rachel was a loudmouth, but she respected rules and was just the type of person to shush someone in a library or if it was something else. Rachel did not look well, but then again, she’d missed an entire school week, so she must have been pretty unwell. She looked like she hadn’t eaten or slept the entire time she was gone.

“You’re welcome.”

Rachel gave her a small smile and the two left the library together.

“You must have been pretty sick,” Quinn said neutrally. “You don’t miss school. Last year you came even when you had laryngitis.”

Rachel was quiet for a moment before she answered. “It was the flu. But I feel fine now.”

“Well, good. I wouldn’t want you to Typhoid Mary the school.”

That provoked a tiny snort of amusement. “I assure you my very minor cold will not result in such dire consequences for the rest of the student body of this school.”

“I thought it was the flu,” Quinn teased.

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Semantics.”

Rachel grinned at Quinn because she kind of loved it when people turned proper nouns into verbs and she was particularly tickled by verb-ing Typhoid Mary.

“A cold and the flu are two different things, Rachel. I would think your doctor would have pointed that out to you.”

“Why so invested in my well-being?” Rachel asked with a crooked smile.

“I’m invested in _my_ well-being.”

“I assure you I’m not contagious.”

“Typhoid Mary said the same thing. ”

Rachel didn’t respond to that, and the two girls continued to walk out of the building toward the parking lot.

“Do you want a ride home?”

“No, thank-you.”

“Are you sure? It’s getting cold.”

“No, I’m fine. I like the walk home.”

Quinn shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Quinn got into her car and drove away and Rachel started her slow walk home.

\--

It was the first Thanksgiving in a few years that Quinn got to spend with her older sister, Taylor. Taylor was twenty-four and married to some putzy schmuck who owned a few UPS stores. Jeffery was in Japan for the month and so Taylor spent Thanksgiving with Quinn and their mother. Quinn adored her sister, and she was just happy to have Taylor around, even if Taylor was mysteriously gone a lot while she’d visited.

“It’s nice to have my girls home a little more,” Judy said wistfully.

“You might get your wish, mom,” Taylor said quietly.

That was when her sister announced that she and Jeffery were having some problems in their marriage and that they were discussing possible separation.

Her brother-in-law was kind of a schmuck, but her twenty-four-going-on-twenty-five year old sister’s possible divorce did not affirm Quinn’s faith in romance, marriage or humanity at large.

It was awful, but Quinn thought it might be nice to have her sister at home again, even if it was for terrible reasons.

\--

When school resumed again the Monday after Thanksgiving, Rachel seemed back to her normal self. She looked rested and she was back to her normal-bordering-on-obnoxiously boisterous self. Mr. Schuester paired them up for the duet assignment and Quinn ambled down to Rachel’s seat in the front row and slid a chair a little closer to Rachel so they could talk without having to speak too loudly.

“You look better,” Quinn commented.

“I think I just needed to break from school,” Rachel said with a smile. “Do you have any suggestions for the duet?”

“Yeah,” Quinn said. “But I’m sure you have some ideas in mind already. Just so you know, I’m not doing anything from Broadway.”

Rachel pouted. But she decided not to fixate too much on that. “Of course I have ideas. I’m always prepared for any assignment, though I did not anticipate being paired with you. I think--”

“What are your suggestions?” Quinn interrupted in exasperation, her tone short. She tried to bite her tongue around Rachel and they were friendly with one another but she couldn’t handle it when Rachel got too loquacious and went on one of her rambles.

Rachel looked pleased by the question, but put-off by the fact Quinn cut her off.

“I would enjoy the subversive quality of singing a duet traditionally considered male-female or perhaps a song that is not a duet but turning it into one.”

“Rachel,” Quinn said, saying the brunette’s name slowly. “Do you have a suggestion or not?”

“‘Don’t Get Me Wrong.’”

“Don’t get you wrong about what?”

“No, that’s my suggestion. ‘Don’t Get Me Wrong’ by the Pretenders. It’s not a duet, but I think it can be split up nicely into a duet.”

“Oh,” Quinn said. “Well, anything else?”

“You don’t like it?” Rachel asked, pouting a little. “It’s one of my favorite songs to sing. I like to sing it after my shower after my morning exercise regiment. I find that after singing ‘Defying Gravity’ in the shower, it’s a good way to--”

“What’s one of your other suggestions?” Quinn interrupted because though they were kind of friends, she’d realized Rachel required a lot of redirecting when she spoke or else she rambled at length. Most of the time, Quinn had to admit, it was actually kind of cute, but at the moment, Quinn was more just annoyed.

“The Postal Service ‘Nothing Better’?”

“Next?”

“’Somethin’ Stupid’?”

“Why would I want you to suggest something stupid?”

Rachel heaved a deep sigh. “Are you deliberately trying to provoke me by pretending to misinterpret my suggestions?” she demanded. “I am going to assume that your confusion is genuine and not deliberate. I meant the disturbingly Oedipal but highly effective duet between father and daughter pair Frank and Nancy Sinatra.”

Quinn made a face. “I’d prefer not to sing that with you. Sorry. Next.”

“Well, do you have any suggestions?” Rachel huffed.

“What about that Rachael Yamagata song, ‘Worn me Down’? It’s not a duet, but you know, whatever.”

“Though I love that song, I refuse to sing a song in front of Noah which includes the lines, ‘worn me down to my knees, I did everything to please,’ because it would be wildly misinterpreted.”

Quinn stared at Rachel for a moment who looked back at her, her expression utterly guileless. Quinn burst into laughter because Rachel was _so_ right. “Okay” she said. “You have a point.” She paused. “What about that Kylie Minogue song ‘Can’t Get You out of My Head’? Again, not a duet, but…”

Rachel blanched. It took her a moment to speak. “That song is primarily composed of la la la, I’d prefer something else.”

“It was just a suggestion,” Quinn said irritably, a little annoyed by the expression on Rachel’s face. By the look on Rachel’s face, one would think Quinn suggested shooting kittens out of cannons or something equally disturbing. But she kind of had to concede the point about the song being primarily composed of la-la-la. It was just that she’d heard that song a lot when she was growing up because her sister played it on an endless damn loop. When her sister visited over Thanksgiving, Taylor found some random CDs she’d left behind and Quinn had heard that song quite a few times during the holiday weekend.

“I do like that song a lot,” Rachel said softly. “I’d just prefer something else.”

“Okay,” Quinn said.

“I realize there is an anonymously vocal faction who comments on Jacob Ben Israel’s blog that New Directions sings a disproportionately large number of songs from--”

“Please no Broadway, remember?”

“The 80s,” Rachel continued, giving Quinn a dirty look but not pausing due to the interruption. “But do you like the Crowded House song, ‘Don’t Dream It’s Over’?”

Quinn contemplated it. “I like that,” she said. “Or what about that song that goes, ‘don’t you want me baby’ What’s that song called?”

Rachel chuckled. “’Don’t You Want Me,’” she informed Quinn dryly. “It’s by the Human League. And I agree, that is a good song choice because it’s already a duet.”

“Or the ‘Tainted Love’ song.”

Rachel smiled. “I see you enjoy this 80s theme.”

Quinn smiled back. “Did we narrow it down to those three?”

Rachel nodded. “I’m partial to the Human League song or the Crowded House.”

“Let’s do the Human League song.”

Rachel smiled brightly. “It’s somewhat cliché and predictable as a choice, but I find it very enjoyable.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I feel the same way, too,” she said sarcastically.

Rachel’s smile was bright and Quinn wasn’t sure if it was because sarcasm was lost on her or if it simply did not faze her. “Good.”

Though they were surprisingly quick in choosing a song, once they began practicing, they couldn’t agree on who would take the traditionally male vocals. Then Rachel became irate that the male vocals had a bigger part in the song because she lost the rock-paper-scissors fight over who would take which vocals.

Therefore the song was summarily dismissed and they settled on ‘Tainted Love.’

Once they performed for the rest of New Directions and received the applause of their teammates, Rachel and Quinn smiled at one another and took their seats again as Brittany and Santana got up to perform their song (Tegan and Sara, ‘Not Tonight’.)

Rachel was always cheerful but her good mood stayed elevated through the rest of the month and until the last day of school before Winter Break started.

Rachel beamed at Quinn on that last day.

“Have a great vacation,” Rachel said sincerely. “See you when we get back.”

Quinn smiled. “Yeah, you too.”

\--

Like many women who married young, Taylor became more a part of her husband’s family than her family of origin. Quinn and their mother lamented the loss, but their father seemed to think it was normal and said something about how once a woman gets married she becomes more aligned with her husband. Quinn thought it was strange though because Taylor really didn’t live that far away-- just a few hours though it was one way, so really, Taylor could be around more, but she just wasn’t.

With Jeffery still in Japan, Quinn visited Taylor for five days during Winter Break.

Quinn was looking for a lip gloss which rolled under her sister’s bed when she dropped it on the floor. Quinn got down on her stomach and found her lip gloss and grabbed it triumphantly. But a hatbox covered with a large gold star on it caught her attention and she pulled it out. The hatbox was black and there was a yellow star glued on top of it which had been meticulously cut from construction paper. Written on top of the star was a childish scrawl “To Taylor, Happy Sweet Sixteen, Love Rachel B(erry)”

Quinn blinked and she couldn’t resist opening it. The hatbox’s lid had a letter, now yellowed with age, glued to the inside of it, clearly painstakingly written by Rachel given the eraser marks. She put the lid aside because she was more interested in the box’s contents, which she discovered just held various mementos like pictures that Rachel had clearly drawn as a child and gifted to Taylor, homemade birthday and Christmas cards and a couple of clearly homemade gifts. There were a few pictures of Rachel as well, grinning toothily into the camera. The sight of Rachel’s childish scrawl and drawings made Quinn smile, but she wondered why Taylor had saved so many of them. The drawings weren’t anything that remarkable-- just typical kid stuff with gold stars, hearts and various depictions of Taylor, although Quinn observed with note of gleeful hilarity that Rachel’s depictions of Taylor made Taylor look taller and skinnier than she actually had been. In Rachel’s depictions of herself standing next to Taylor, Taylor was always so much taller.

“What are you doing?”

Taylor’s voice startled Quinn from her perusal. Her sister sounded hostile.

“Sorry!” Quinn said. “I dropped my lip gloss and I found this box. It’s from Rachel, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t believe you kept all this stuff.”

Taylor shrugged. “She was the only kid I ever babysat. She was special to me.” Taylor sat down next to Quinn on the floor and gently pulled the box away and closed it. She shoved it under the bed. “How is she doing?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“Aren’t you guys friends?” Taylor looked at her intently.

Quinn shrugged. “Not really. I still want to kill her half the time. She’d be much easier to be around if she could shut up once in a while, but I think she’s physically incapable.”

Taylor released an amused snort of laughter and then covered her mouth, looking embarrassed for laughing. “She’s a sweet kid,” she said softly. She paused. “Has she ever asked about me or talked to you about me?”

Quinn’s forehead furrowed, and she wondered why Taylor would even care. “Last month right before Thanksgiving she reminded me that you used to babysit her when I told her you were coming home.”

Taylor smiled faintly. “Is that all?”

“Well, she said you were awesome and told me something about you bringing her some leftovers from Thanksgiving a million years ago.”

Taylor laughed softly. “Oh yeah,” she said. “Her dad left the liver and giblets in the turkey and tried to cook it. It sounded so gross.”

Quinn made a face. “I mean, I know he’s a guy, but didn’t he wash it? Or put stuffing in it? “

Taylor snorted. “Well, drug addicts aren’t exactly reliable.”

Quinn’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

Taylor blanched. “You didn’t know about that?”

“ _No_.”

“Rachel’s dad Judah is a drug addict. Everyone knows about it. Or at least knew about it when I was watching her. He was gone a lot. She was a pain in the ass at first because she’d leave the house without me knowing about it trying to look for him. I used to find her wandering around and I’d have to take her back to her house kicking and screaming. It was a real pain.” Taylor paused. “Well,” she said quietly. “It was a pain in the ass back then. Looking back on it, it’s more just sad.”

Quinn nodded. “Yeah,” she agreed softly. “What about her other dad?”

“He was sweet. He just worked a lot because he was such an enabler.”

Quinn nodded again. She did remember that Taylor was gone a lot to babysit Rachel, but she thought that was more a product of childhood memories becoming a little exaggerated, she didn’t think it was that based in reality. Growing up, she used to be jealous of how much Rachel stole Taylor’s time, so it was kind of gratifying that her jealousy had been justified.

“Was that why I wasn’t allowed to go with you to play with her?”

Quinn always thought it was strange that she and Rachel weren’t allowed to be friends when they were younger given the massive amount of time Taylor spent at the Berry house.

Taylor snorted. “No, Dad was just an asshole about her dads being gay. Their money was good enough to take, but he didn’t want you around them.” Taylor smiled wryly. “I was older and I guess I was just worth less to him,” she joked.

Quinn chuckled. “What did he think that they were going to molest me or something? They’re gay.”

Quinn missed her father sometimes even though she could objectively admit he was a jerk. But he’d been a good dad to her when she was little. Still, her mother was better off without him, and clearly she herself was better off without him since Quinn doubted she’d be living at home again if her mother hadn’t kicked her father out.

Taylor’s lips tightened slightly. “Yeah, I guess.” She smiled and slapped Quinn’s knee. “Come on, kidlet. I’m starving.”

Quinn smiled. “Okay.”

“When you see Rachel, tell her I say ‘hey.’”

Quinn chuckled. “Sure.”  
\--

Taylor seemed distracted during lunch and repeatedly glanced at her phone.

“Sorry,” Taylor apologized. “I don’t mean to be rude.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

Taylor’s phone rang and she looked at it. She didn’t look happy, but she did look relieved.

“I need to take this,” Taylor said quietly.

“Okay,” Quinn said. “Go ahead.”

Taylor gave Quinn a tiny smile and walked away.

She was only gone for five minutes, but sitting alone at the table made Quinn feel like Taylor was gone for an eternity. Quinn idly grabbed her phone and scrolled through her contacts list for someone to text. Her first instinct was to text Santana, but they weren’t on speaking terms after that fight on the first day of school. She thought about texting Brittany, but Brittany’s loyalties were clearly with Santana. Puck would misinterpret it as a desire for sexting which Quinn definitely did not want to do. She thought about Mercedes or Kurt, but she really didn’t feel like starting anything-- with the two of them, Kurt in particular, once she started texting with them it tended to last hours and sometimes the whole day, and she wasn’t looking for that kind of investment or commitment into her day. She just wanted someone to occupy her time until Taylor came back.

She settled on the R’s and decided on Rachel.

_I’m visiting with my sister. Your name came up. She says ‘hey.’_

She was annoyed that Rachel didn’t text her back right away.

Taylor returned to the table.

“Everything okay?” Quinn asked, concerned by the overly blank expression on Taylor’s face.

Taylor smiled. “Sure.”

A few minutes later, Quinn’s phone beeped with a text from Rachel.

_Tell her ‘hey’ back. Tell her I made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich because I thought of her after you texted me. I hope you’re having a great visit with her and I’ll see you back at school._

Quinn smiled. “Rachel says ‘hey.’”

Taylor raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I texted her while you were outside because I was bored. I told her you said ‘hey.’”

Taylor smiled. “Oh.”

“She says to tell you she’s making herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

Taylor nodded slightly. “I used to make her those. She could do it herself, but she liked it when I did it for her.”

“That’s because you get a bowl and mixed the peanut butter and jelly together first. I liked that, too.”

Taylor chuckled. “Kids are so easy to entertain.”

Quinn laughed. “Yeah, well. It was good.”

“I’m sure you’re old enough to do it yourself now.”

“Heh. Yeah.”

“Hey,” Taylor said. “Don’t tell her I told you about her dad. She didn’t figure it out until she was older, she just thought he was sick a lot. I’m sure she doesn’t want it to become common knowledge again, you know?”

“I won’t,” Quinn promised.

“Thanks.”

It did make Quinn think of Rachel a _little_ differently and she wondered if Rachel’s father still had a problem with drugs or if that was all settled down now. It did make sense now though how Rachel Berry, of all people, knew where to find a crackden.

\--

She was just a few towns over, but being away from Lima felt _amazing_ and she was a little sad when she got back to Lima. She and her sister were caravanning back to Lima so that they could come back to celebrate Christmas with their mother. She’d somehow lost Taylor on the highway, but it didn’t matter because Taylor knew where to go.

She ran into Rachel at the gas station on her first day back in Lima-- Rachel was behind the wheel of a used white Mini Cooper.

“New car?” Quinn asked.

Rachel smiled. “New to me.”

“Oh yeah. Your birthday was a few days ago.”

“Yes. My fathers bought it for me as sort of a combination of holiday and birthday gifts. “

“Nice.”

“Yes.” Rachel smiled. “How was visiting your sister?”

“Good,” Quinn said. “She’s coming back with me to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas with me and my mom.” She paused. “You should come by and say hi.”

Rachel smiled crookedly. “I’m sure she doesn’t want to hang out with me.”

Quinn shrugged. “She said you were special to her.”

Rachel cocked her head to the right and gazed at Quinn for a moment. “Did she?” she asked with a faint smile. “That was sweet of her. Thank you for telling me. She was special to me, too. She was my favorite babysitter and I had a lot of them.”

The gas pump stopped, indicating her tank was full. “Anyway,” Quinn said. “I should get home. My mom is expecting us.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “You and your imaginary friend?” she teased, glancing around.

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Taylor and I are caravanning, but I lost her on the highway. You know, it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow.”

“Oh, right. Happy Christmas.” Rachel said. “Well, see you, Quinn. I hope the rest of vacation goes well.”

“Yeah, you too. Uh, happy belated birthday.”

Rachel smiled toothily. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “See you back at school.”

“Yeah, see you back at school.”

\--

Quinn thought she was going to spend more time with her sister, but just like at Thanksgiving, Taylor was mysteriously gone a lot. Quinn just assumed that Taylor was probably catching up with old high school friends, but she had to admit she was a little disappointed that she didn’t get to spend more time with her older sister despite the fact she’d just spent five days alone with her.

\--

She ran into Rachel in the student parking lot on the first day back at school from winter break. She tried to pull into a space on the immediate left of the white Mini Cooper just as Rachel was trying to get out of the car. Quinn hit the brake and paused for a moment and waited as Rachel got back into her car. Quinn parked in the space and she rolled down her window to call out an apology to Rachel.

“Sorry,” Quinn said, multitasking by getting her stuff together.

Rachel nodded. “Me too,” she said with a smile. “I’ll see you in first period,” she said, giving a wave as she walked into the school.

Quinn watched as Rachel walked through the parking lot. Finn must have just arrived at the school because he ran across the parking lot to fall into step with Rachel. They linked arms and Quinn wondered if they were dating again or if they were still just friends.

Quinn slipped into first period before the bell rang and she nodded in acknowledgement at Rachel who sat a few seats away. Rachel smiled and waved and Quinn took her seat.

Mr. Varela paired them up for a class assignment and Rachel slipped into the seat next to Quinn’s once the class rearranged themselves.

“Hi,” Rachel said. “Happy New Year.”

“Yeah, Happy New Year.”

They started the assignment immediately with minimal chatter about things not directly related to the assignment. Rachel seemed subdued and distracted, but not so distracted that it compromised the assignment. They worked on it through first period and once the bell rang, Rachel began packing up.

“Do you want to meet in the library after school to finish it up?” Rachel asked because the assignment was supposed to carry over for a couple weeks.

“Uh, I have Cheerios practice. Do you want to come over to my house? Maybe around seven?”

“Oh. Okay. Well, see you then.”

Quinn stared at her. “We have all our classes together.”

Rachel blushed and let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Right. Well, let’s go.”  
  
They walked to their next class together making idle chit chat.

“So did you do anything fun over winter break now that you’re a licensed driver?” Quinn asked teasingly. “Did you participate in any races?”

Rachel smiled. “Drag racing is illegal. I follow all the rules of the road.”

Quinn snorted at the humorless response. “Of course you do.”

“It makes it much easier to blend in and avoid scrutiny from the police when driving the getaway car,” Rachel deadpanned.

Quinn actually stopped short at the very blasé tone and stared at Rachel in baffled surprise. Rachel smiled beatifically and Quinn rolled her eyes. She laughed and slapped Rachel’s shoulder.

“You’re a geek,” she declared.

“I think the term around school is ‘gleek.’”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “I refuse to use that.”

“I rather like it. I think it’s a cute portmanteau, much like adorable and dork becoming adorakable.”

Quinn shook her head. “Seriously. Such a geek.”

“It’s always nice when two people can be upfront with one another.”

“You’re such a geek.”

“I know.”

\--

Rachel came over that day after dinner. She politely greeted Judy Fabray and followed Quinn up the stairs to the blonde’s bedroom. She paused outside the bedroom that used to be Taylor’s, the door to which was open. Rachel peered inside it. “This was Taylor’s room, right?”

“Yeah.”

Rachel smiled faintly. “I can tell.”

She followed Quinn into her room.

\--

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Rachel was a performer, but she was hilariously adept at imitating other people and they spent the first twenty minutes mocking their teacher, Mr. Varela and his tendency to attempt to over-relate to his students. He was actually a good teacher and generally nice to boot, but just a little much. And he was a stickler for rules, so that was annoying sometimes, too.

“Come on, man,” Rachel said, lowering her voice by about eight octaves. “It’s not so bad, man.” She was sitting at Quinn’s desk and grinned at Quinn who was sitting on the bed.

Quinn guffawed. It wasn’t so much what Rachel said, so much as _how_ she said it, lowering her voice and gesturing with her hands in such a precise mimicry of their teacher.

“Come on, guys. I’m simply trying to recapture my former high school glory by speaking in a manner that I _think_ teenagers speak in, but because I am so hopelessly cliché and employ such laughably abysmal cultural references such as the cast of _Jersey Shore_ , I am actually completely unrelatable.”

Quinn laughed hysterically, doubled over on her bed. “Okay, okay,” she gasped out. “Stop.”

Rachel grinned at her.

“Who knew you had a mean streak?”

Rachel’s smile dimmed slightly. “Everyone has a mean streak. I just conceal mine better than most.”

It felt like a barb directed at her, though Quinn knew it probably wasn’t. “Well,” Quinn drawled. “I guess you do.”

Her iPod was in her docking station and she grabbed the remote to skip the song that came on shuffle. The music played softly just for background noise and Quinn was relieved that there had been no epic battles over the music.

Rachel chuckled and she gestured toward the stuffed brown mouse on Quinn’s bed with her chin. “Did Taylor give you that?”

Quinn smiled. “Yeah.”

“She gave me one, too. But he’s white. His name is Mousey.”

“That is a very thoughtfully creative and clever name, Rachel.”

“Well, what’s his name?” Rachel huffed, pointing toward the stuffed mouse with her index finger.

Quinn flushed. “Mouse,” she mumbled

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Could you repeat that?”

“Mouse,” Quinn said quietly.

Rachel grinned. “I’m sorry. Please. One more time. I think my ears are plugged today.”

“Mouse!” Quinn exclaimed.

Rachel laughed heartily. “And you chose to mock the name I chose?”

“You just added a ‘y’ to Mouse!” Quinn huffed.

“Yes, and that exerted a modicum of more thought and energy.”

Quinn snorted and grabbed Mouse and threw it at Rachel, who caught it and hugged it close.

“It’s okay, Mousey. I accept you,” Rachel said.

“His name is _Mouse_ ,” Quinn said, aggrieved.

Rachel grinned. “Please accept my humble and sincere apologies.”

Quinn eyed her with suspicion. “You’re not sorry.”

“On the contrary, I apologize profusely.”

Rachel gave her one of those toothy grins that Rachel must have believed were cute (which they were). Quinn rolled her eyes.

“Give me back my mouse.”

Rachel grinned and stood up and _walked_ Mouse back and set him carefully on the bed.

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Well, at least you’re giving Mouse the respect he deserves,” she joked, because really, she had _just_ hurled him across the room.

Rachel smiled. “I have a great deal of respect for Mousey’s sibling,” she said gravely. She grinned crookedly to prove she was teasing.

Quinn laughed. “I guess they would be related.”

They returned to working on the assignment and worked quietly on it until Rachel broke the silence.

“I love this song,” she commented with a grin as a new song came on. She cocked her head and listened for a while, but began singing along. “I’ll stop the world and melt with you. You’ve seen the difference, and it’s getting better all the time,” she sang softly.

Quinn grinned. “I love it, too,” she said. “There’s nothing you and I won’t do, I’ll stop the world and melt with you,” she said, singing along with the song and Rachel.

Rachel laughed softly. “It’s a great song,” she murmured. “My dads love it, but they are unrepentant fans of music from the 80s. Not that they should be in any way repentant about things they love.” Rachel paused. “Mostly anyway,” she added, her voice tinged with a tiny note of melancholia.

“Like what?” Quinn prodded gently.

There was a very brief pause and then Rachel spoke. “Their love for that terrible Macarena song,” Rachel deadpanned, her good humor back. “Heey Macarena,” she sang softly. “It’s just terrible,” she said, shaking her head.

Quinn laughed. “They should definitely do penance for that,” she said drolly.

Rachel grinned at her.

Rachel stayed and they worked on their assignment until it got a little late. Rachel glanced at the clock on Quinn’s wall.

“I should go,” Rachel said. “It’s getting pretty late.”

Quinn looked at the time. “Oh,” she said. It was already 11pm. “Yeah. Well, do you want to work on it again tomorrow after glee?”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to come over again? Or do you want to me to come to you?”

Rachel paused thoughtfully. “Do you mind your house again?”

Quinn couldn’t help but think about what Taylor told her about one of Rachel’s fathers being an addict. She wondered if Rachel’s hesitation about having her over at the house was due in part to that. Although from what she heard from Finn and Puck, Rachel’s fathers were rarely home and Rachel typically had it to herself.

“I don’t mind,” Quinn said. “You should have dinner with us. We can work on the project afterward. My mom is a good cook.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I’ll--”

“I’ll let her know you’re vegan, okay?”

Rachel smiled. “I’m not a strict vegan,” she admitted. “I still sneak the occasional slice of pepperoni pizza, although my choice not to consume that is more due to the calories and fat than the dairy and meat.”

Quinn laughed. “Okay, cool. So just follow me home tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

Rachel smiled at her. “Thanks.”  
  
\--

It used to kill Quinn to admit it, but Rachel had genuine talent, and she always understood why Rachel got the most solos. It wasn’t exactly fair to anyone else, but no one seemed to take glee as seriously as Rachel did, so maybe there was a certain amount of fairness.

Rachel chose to sing “So Young” by the Corrs that day and everyone got into it more than anticipated.

 _“And it really doesn’t matter that we don’t eat_  
And it really doesn’t matter that we don’t sleep  
It really doesn’t matter, it really doesn’t matter at all”

Finn spun Rachel around and Rachel exchanged a high-five with Brittany, the two girls interlocking their fingers for a moment before Rachel turned to Quinn and smiled, Rachel’s eyes pinning the blonde with genuine warmth.

They finished out the song and Quinn watched as Finn pulled Rachel into a tight hug. He pressed a quick kiss to Rachel’s lips and she smiled up at him and stroked his face.  
  
Quinn looked away.  
\--

Judy seemed to have a soft spot or something for Rachel because when they got to Quinn’s house, the meal Judy prepared was decidedly free of meat and anything dairy.

Rachel beamed at her. “Thank you, Mrs. Fabray. I appreciate it. Everything is delicious.”

Judy smiled back. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.”

Everyone chatted idly and Judy shooed away Rachel’s offers to help with the dishes.

Rachel followed Quinn to her room. They settled into their spots from the night before-- Rachel in the chair at Quinn’s desk and Quinn on the bed. They diligently worked on the assignment and there was a natural silence as they both stared down at their literature textbooks, their laptops open next to them.

“Are you and Finn dating again?” Quinn asked, germane to nothing.

Rachel snorted. “No, we’re not. We’re just friends.”

“Why did you guys break up anyway?”

Rachel gazed at her. “Why so curious?”

“I’m just making conversation,” Quinn said, unfazed.

Rachel shrugged. “It simply wasn’t working out and I realized that I did not want to undertake such a big commitment.”

“Oh.”

“And how are you and Noah?”

Quinn made a face. “Puck and I aren’t anything.”

“He still cares for you.”

“Well, I care for him, too. I just don’t want any commitment either.”

“Oh.”

“Let’s get back to work, okay?”

“Sure.”

\--

If Quinn were inclined to believe in all that mumbo jumbo about the universe knowing what it wants, she’d swear the universe was conspiring against her, because the next day at school, she and Rachel were paired up for yet another assignment, this time in their Family Studies class.

This time, she went to Rachel’s seat since Rachel had come to hers in English.

“I can’t seem to get rid of you,” Quinn joked.

“Are you following me?” Rachel countered.

Rachel smiled and Quinn smiled back.

\--

Rachel came over for the third consecutive day, though this time after dinner. The assignment for Family Studies was a family history in which they interviewed one another about their families and then reported it back. It was half an assignment about mining for family histories and half an assignment to demonstrate that the similarities in families tended to outnumber the differences.

“Well,” Rachel said brightly. “Since my family history is well-established in Lima, vis-à-vis my gay fathers, let’s focus on you first.”

Quinn gave her a small smile. “Sure.”

She thought Rachel would jump at the opportunity to talk about herself, butgiven what she knew now about Rachel’s parents, Quinn just assumed there were some things Rachel wanted to keep to herself.

They had prompts to guide them through the assignment and Quinn found herself talking at length about it. Rachel was a surprisingly good listener for someone who enjoyed the sound of her own voice as much as she did. Rachel was quiet and intent as Quinn spoke. They got through roughly a quarter of the answers when Rachel stood up and stretched before they could get to the next question.

“I should get going, it’s late,” Rachel said.

Quinn glanced at the clock. “Yeah, okay. I’ll walk you out.”

Rachel smiled. “Okay.”

They walked down the steps together. “Do you want to work on our assignments again tomorrow?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah,” Quinn said. “I don’t like putting things off.”

Rachel smiled. “Do you want to come over to my house this time? I feel we need a little parity.”

Quinn blinked. “Parody?”

“ _Parity_ ,” Rachel enunciated. “P-a-r-i-t-y, not p-a-r-o-d-y.”

Quinn shook her head. “This isn’t a spelling bee, Rachel. I got it.”

This time, rather than just walking Rachel to the door, Quinn walked Rachel to her car.

Rachel smiled. “I was just making sure.”

Quinn laughed softly. “Thank you for being so concerned for my welfare.”

Rachel grinned. “Well, of course. You’re my partner on two class assignments.”

Quinn smiled back. “Yeah. Okay, partner,” she said. “See you tomorrow.”

Rachel laughed. “Good night, partner.”


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Rachel pulled into the school parking lot and checked her phone again, but there was no text message. She sighed. ‘Text me back,’ she pleaded inwardly. She sat in her car staring at her phone for a few minutes. As was the story of most people’s lives, the will was strong, but the flesh was weak, because even though she didn’t _want_ to call, her fingers dialed.

She wanted to respect Taylor’s wishes-- Taylor thought it was better they not be in contact anymore, and Rachel wanted to respect that. She didn’t want to be that psycho who hung around after a relationship was over even when they were unwanted, but she couldn’t help it. Taylor wasn’t just some inconsequential guy or girl she dated for a few weeks or even a few months and then broke up with. Taylor was the love of her life.

She thought maybe Taylor would ignore her, but Taylor answered after two rings.

“You shouldn’t call me,” Taylor said in lieu of a greeting.

“I want to see you again,” Rachel begged. “Please. Can I come over tonight? It’s Thursday. I’ll just skip school tomorrow. I’ll stay through the weekend.”

“You can’t,” Taylor whispered.

“But he’s still gone.”

“Rachel, don’t do this to me.”

“I just want to see you,” Rachel said quietly. “I miss you.”

Taylor sucked in a breath. “This is wrong, Rachel. You can’t come this weekend. You shouldn’t call me. You shouldn’t text me. I can’t do this with you again. I can’t do this _to_ you again.”

“Don’t you love me anymore?” Rachel asked quietly.

“I’ve always loved you, little one.”

“Don’t you want me anymore?” Rachel asked, her voice small.

“I’ve always wanted you. I’ve always wanted you too much. This…this is _wrong_.”

“Daddy’s in rehab again,” Rachel choked out. “This time he went to California. Dad went with him and Dad’s going to be gone for the week. They won’t even know I’m gone. They wouldn’t even notice even if they were here. Can’t you keep me company this weekend? I want to see you again. I’m _lonely_. This will be the last time, I promise. I just…please, I need to see you.”

“That’s what we said during Thanksgiving. And Christmas. And we said it all summer, too.”

“Can’t I come over? I have a bag packed already.”

“Rachel, this is wrong,” Taylor whispered. “Don’t do this to me, little one. Please.”

“I just miss you. You know I’m in love with you. I want to see you. It’s normal to want to see the person you’re in love with.”

“You are _not_ in love with me. You…” Taylor trailed off. She sighed deeply. “Okay,” she said. “Come over today and stay the weekend. You know how much I hate that you’re alone in your house so much. But this is the last time.”

“Thank you,” Rachel whispered. “It’s going to be late. I have this school project I’m working on with another student. I’ll call you when I leave.”

Rachel thought it was best to withhold the fact that the other student was Taylor’s younger sister. That seemed like something Taylor may get mad about.

Taylor sighed. “All right,” she agreed reluctantly. “Drive safely, no daredevil shit, okay?”

Rachel smiled, touched that Taylor was concerned although it was pointless to be worried about that because she was a very safe driver who diligently obeyed traffic laws. “Okay,” Rachel said. “I love you.”

Taylor was silent for a long moment before she responded. “I love you, too. And remember,” she said softly. “Shh. If you’re going to come, you can’t tell anyone where you’re going.”

Rachel nodded. “Shh,” she echoed solemnly.

“See you, little one.”

“Okay.”

Rachel gripped the phone in her hand once they hung up and released a harsh breath. She knew what her therapist would say if she’d ever disclose it to Dr. Goodman, but she wasn’t planning on ever disclosing it. The whole thing was incredibly screwed up, but Rachel didn’t know what to do about it.

She went for years trying not to think about Taylor Fabray and then one night during the summer between sophomore and junior year, she was bored and had nothing in particular to do. So she looked up Taylor on Facebook and found her. She didn’t think Taylor would message her back, but she did. They exchanged numbers and five years after she said goodbye to Taylor two days before Taylor left for college, Rachel spoke to her.

Rachel didn’t know what possessed her to contact Taylor. In the intervening five years, she’d thought of Taylor almost daily, but she never once thought of contacting her. She even thought twice about sending that message on Facebook-- it wasn’t an act of impulsivity the way many of her bad or foolish choices tended to be. She just could not fight the compulsion.

Things were different this time around-- Taylor wasn’t as intimidating as she used to be, she wasn’t as big and strong as Rachel remembered her to be. It didn’t hurt anymore, which made it much better this time around. She knew she should have stayed away, but she just couldn’t.

And now with the family histories assignment with Quinn, she was finding out more about Quinn and Taylor’s family and it just made Rachel feel this compulsion to see Taylor again, and really, how does one disobey one’s compulsions? It was probably sick, but Rachel couldn’t stop herself from seeking Taylor out. Even after all this time, even after everything, Rachel couldn’t stop herself from wanting Taylor. She knew it was wrong, but it didn’t feel wrong.

She stuck her phone in her bag, and she couldn’t help but smile at the prospect of seeing Taylor again, even if she was also kind of disappointed with herself. She got out of her car and began her walk to first period. She spotted Quinn in the hallway and fell into step with the blonde.

Quinn had _always_ reminded Rachel so much of Taylor, although this was more in appearance than in character. Quinn and Taylor were nearly a decade apart in age, but they were practically twins. Quinn at sixteen-nearly-seventeen was a dead ringer for Taylor at that age. Sometimes the way Quinn behaved reminded Rachel a lot of Taylor, too. The similarities between the sisters had always made Quinn simultaneously terrifying and alluring. But the more she got to know Quinn, the less terrifying the blonde became.

“Hey, partner,” Rachel greeted cheerfully.

Quinn smiled at her. “Hey, partner.”

\--

She was distracted through first period and barely managed to get through second period. She toughed it out through third period, but she was just too distracted a  
nd she had no desire to be at school. She contemplated just leaving for the rest of the day, but it wasn’t in her nature to shirk her responsibilities.

“You okay, partner?” Quinn asked after their third period class. “Are you sure you aren’t getting sick again like you did before Thanksgiving?”

Rachel smiled faintly. “No,” she said softly. She was actually never sick that week before Thanksgiving because she was pretty healthy. She’d just taken some time off to visit Taylor. “I’m fine, partner.”

\--

Rachel went to her car during lunch and curled up in the backseat. She shut her eyes and pulled her phone out. She called Taylor again.

“Why did you do this to me?” Rachel asked quietly, pleading for an answer.

When she was younger, she was always too afraid to ask. But she wasn’t as afraid anymore.

Taylor sighed raggedly. “I’m sorry.”

She sounded like she was going to cry and Rachel felt terrible about it, but she’d become accustomed to feeling terrible.

Rachel’s voice was small. “I loved you. I loved you so much.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t have to make me, you could have just asked and I would have done it. I would have done anything you told me to.”

Taylor could be rough, so so rough.

“I know,” Taylor said softly.

Rachel’s voice was choked. “Why did you do this to me?” she repeated. She’d asked again and again since becoming reacquainted with Taylor and though she knew the question caused Taylor anguish, Rachel couldn’t stop asking

“Maybe you shouldn’t come over tonight.”

“Don’t you want me anymore?”

“Rachel, honey. Sweetheart. This is wrong. You…you shouldn’t come over. And don’t you understand how it hurts me when you ask me that?”

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said, contrite.

“You keep asking me that, and how do you think that makes me feel?”

“I’m sorry,” Rachel whispered. “It wasn’t my intent to cause you…I’m sorry.”

“It _really_ hurts me when you ask me stuff like that and it makes me wonder why you even want to see me. I mean, are you just…going to bring up the past? Because you know how sorry I am for all that. You know I’m sorry I hurt you. Why do you need me to go through it again and again? Is the only reason you want to come over so you can hurt me in person?”

“No!” Rachel exclaimed quickly. “No, of course not. I…I don’t know why I asked you that.” Rachel said, frustrated with herself because now she wondered what had been the point. She really couldn’t remember why she’d asked. She remembered being a little angry and despondent, but she didn’t feel like that anymore.

“Is it really so important that you know, little one? It won’t change the past.”

“Okay,” Rachel said softly.

“And you know I love you, right? So it wasn’t so bad because you love me, too. Right?”

“Yes,” Rachel said quickly, relieved that Taylor seemed to be less frustrated with her. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I think I was in a bad mood. I don’t…I don’t know why I was so fixated with that.”

“Can’t change the past, right?”

“Right.”

“So there’s no point in asking a bunch of questions about it and trying to make me feel bad about it, right?”

“Right,” Rachel said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you remember what you promised?”

“I promised not to tell,” Rachel said, her voice wavering.

“It makes me worry when you ask me stuff like this, honey. I feel like you’re still mad at me. But you can’t tell anyone, little one. It will ruin my life and yours, too, and what’s the point in that over stuff that happened _so_ long ago, right?”

“Right,” Rachel said softly.

“If I could go back and change it, I would,” Taylor said softly. “I’m sorry for what I did to you.”

“You are?” Rachel asked, a little hopefully because Taylor was just so _mean_ to her sometimes back then and it made everything that much more painful.

“Of course,” Taylor murmured. “It was wrong of us. It’s just that I loved you a lot and you were really affectionate. You always wanted to sit in my lap. And you were so grown-up, you were like a little adult. You never seemed like a little kid to me.”

“Oh,” Rachel said. “I…okay. That makes sense. I mean…yeah. Thanks. I…I think I understand. It’s just…”

“Just what, honey?”

“I…” she trailed off. She was so turned around, she didn’t know what to do. “Never mind. It’s not…it’s not even important. I’m being dumb.”

“It’s okay, honey. But let’s drop it, okay?”

“Okay,” Rachel said softly.

She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. She had no idea why she was crying, it seemed so dumb to cry. God, why couldn’t she stop crying?

“Are you crying?”

“No,” Rachel lied, mortified for herself.

Taylor paused. “I’m really sorry I hurt you back then, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay,” Rachel said quietly. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

“That’s right,” Taylor said. “Because I loved you then and I still love you now. I never wanted you to get hurt.”

And Rachel smiled because she heard the smile in Taylor’s voice. She wanted to ask ‘why didn’t you stop?’ because she’d begged Taylor to stop on so many occasions, but it didn’t seem like the right time anymore. It would just make Taylor sad, and possibly angry and neither of those were emotions Rachel wanted to inspire in Taylor.

“But you should stay away from me,” Taylor murmured. “It’s really not right for us to do what we’ve been doing. We were both better off apart. What we did together was very wrong and I don’t want us to keep doing that.”

“Why don’t you want me anymore?” Rachel whispered.

Even after everything, she still wanted Taylor. She didn’t even realize or remember how much she wanted her until Taylor was back in her life. Taylor was the first person other than her fathers to tell her she was pretty and Rachel just _needed_ her.

But the memory of crying and trying to push Taylor’s larger and heavier body off of hers, while Taylor whispered _you’re so pretty_ in a hot breath against her neck bubbled up and she just wanted to cry even more. She wished she could hold onto the better moments with Taylor rather than having so much negativity bubble up again and again.

“I’ve always wanted you too much,” Taylor said with regret. “You shouldn’t come tonight, Rachel. In fact, I’m asking you not to. Let’s have a clean break. No more visits, no more calls. No more texts. Let’s go back to the way it was before, when you forgot about me.”

“I never forgot about you,” Rachel whispered. “I thought about you every day. _You_ forgot about me. You promised me you’d write, and you never did.”

“I never forgot about you, sweetheart. I thought about you every day. I just wanted you too much, that’s why I didn’t write.”

“You married someone else,” Rachel pointed out quietly.

“It doesn’t mean I don’t love you, honey.” Taylor sighed. “I think maybe you’re too young to deal with all this. I realize you’re very mature, but you’re still a child. Maybe you just aren’t ready to deal with all this. We should make a clean break. It doesn’t mean we can’t try again in a few years. But maybe for now, we should just walk away from each other because you don’t seem to be handling this very well.”

“I can do better,” Rachel promised quietly. “Whatever you want me to do, I can do it. I’m sorry for…” she trailed off because she wasn’t sure exactly what she was doing to incur this reaction out of Taylor when all Rachel wanted to do was placate her. “Disappointing you.”

“I’m serious, honey. Maybe you shouldn’t come.”

“Are you really going to turn me away if I show up tonight?”

“No,” Taylor admitted. “But this is the last time.”

“Okay,” Rachel said, but she knew it was a lie, because how many times has Taylor told her “this is the last time” when it really wasn’t? She used to plead that it would be the last time, and now she prayed it wouldn’t be.

\--

It started fairly innocently, the way such things always do. She was five to Taylor’s fourteen.

Her fathers were gone a lot-- her daddy Judah was “sick” a lot, but she’d accompanied her dad Eddie to a house once late at night. Dad didn’t want to leave her alone in their house, because she’d had a tendency to sleepwalk, so he took her with him, but he left her by herself in the car after he parked in front of the house where Daddy was. It felt like he was gone forever, but she was happy when he came back with Daddy in tow.

“Daddy is just sick, baby, but he’s going to be okay,” Dad soothed her when she was visibly distressed by Daddy’s appearance. He looked _terrible_ \-- he was pale and shaky and he wouldn’t look at her. “We’re all going home now. I’ll give you a big glass of water when we get home, baby.”  
  
She remembered what the house looked like, but not exactly where the house was. She went there a few more times with Dad to bring Daddy home and she started to memorize how to get there, but she was never entirely sure. After that, any time her Daddy was sick and not at home, she tried to look for that house again to bring him home. She always got lost, but Taylor always managed to find her before she got too far and the teenager always dragged her back home.

Even when Rachel got mad at Taylor for not letting her find her father, she couldn’t _stay_ mad because Taylor was her favorite babysitter and she had a _lot_ of babysitters.

“It’s okay,” Taylor murmured, pulling Rachel into her lap and comforting her after one such instance. “Don’t cry, little one. It’s okay.”

That first time started with a few innocent kisses-- kissing away her tears and Rachel remembered she’d like that very much so she burrowed closer and Taylor’s arms wrapped around her tighter.

“My mom used to do this for me when I your age and I was sad,” Taylor said, rocking her and pressing the occasional kiss to the top of Rachel’s head or her forehead or eyelids. “Do you feel better, little one?”

And she did.

So it started with an innocent kiss, but then it escalated and while Taylor was generally very gentle, there were times when Taylor was rough, mean and scary, when Taylor made everything hurt including _down there_ and in her butt and Taylor squeezed her so hard that it left bruises that didn’t go away for weeks. She knew no one was allowed to touch her there, but it was just more important that she please Taylor, even though sometimes Taylor made her ache down there for hours and days.

But always Taylor made up for it by being sweet-- with presents, with attention, with love.

Taylor made her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with the peanut butter and jelly mixed together, rather than layered and she brought over a special cookie cutter so that every sandwich was in the shape of a star. Rachel didn’t have a mother and her fathers weren’t very detail-oriented, so that kind of special attention made her nearly delirious with joy.

Taylor could make her cry and hurt on a Wednesday, but Rachel would still be eager to see her on Thursday.

She ached when Taylor was there, she ached when Taylor wasn’t there and she cried inconsolably when Taylor left Lima for Pennsylvania for college.

“I’ll write,” Taylor promised.

But she didn’t.

\--

Rachel pulled herself together and made it to her first class after lunch, but she stayed a little spaced out. She was in her hometown in the only high school she ever attended, and yet, she walked around the rest of the school day feeling utterly disoriented.

“Are you okay?” Quinn asked quietly once they were ensconced in Rachel’s bedroom after Quinn followed her home from school.

“Of course,” Rachel said, she was preoccupied with pulling her iPod out of her bag and tucking it into her docking station to put on some background noise. “Why would you ask that?”

“You seemed a little…distracted today.”

Rachel paused contemplatively. Since she planned on missing school tomorrow, she thought it was better to set up an alibi. “I think I’m coming down with something.”

Quinn smiled. “I knew it! I told you so.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “Well, you don’t have to look quite so triumphant.”

Quinn had the good grace to look a little embarrassed. “Sorry.”

Rachel laughed. “It’s okay.”

For Quinn there were no surprises when it came to Rachel’s bedroom-- the room’s décor was truly a reflection of its occupant. Since it was Rachel’s room, Rachel sat on the bed while Quinn sat in the chair at Rachel’s desk.

“Hey, there’s Mouse’s brother,” Quinn said, gesturing toward Rachel’s stuffed mouse, Mousey.

Rachel grinned. “I decided they’re actually fraternal twins.”

Quinn laughed. “I think you’re right.”

Rachel couldn’t help but pet Mousey and she remembered how Taylor presented Mousey to her on her sixth birthday. She’d cherished it then and she still cherished it now ten years later. She wished she didn’t cherish it, but she did. She wished she didn’t want Taylor so much, because she wasn’t so out of her mind that she was ignorant of the fact the situation was fucked up. She tried to put all those thoughts out of her mind and just focus on the assignment and Quinn, because Quinn was doing her fair share of the assignment and Rachel thought she owed it to Quinn to do hers.

They worked on their assignments until it was dinner time and Quinn followed Rachel into the living room to wait for their food to be delivered.

\--

Rachel’s family was firmly committed to take-out and so she and Quinn ordered dinner from a Chinese restaurant which also had a selection of vegetarian items. Vegan and vegetarian weren’t synonymous, but she liked the restaurant, so it was good enough for Rachel.

“You know,” Quinn said, taking a few nibbles of Rachel’s noodles with tofu. “This isn’t so bad.”

Rachel smiled at her. “I can’t interest you in regularly swamping out meat and dairy from your diet, can I?”

Quinn snorted in derision. “Forget it. Bacon is life,” she joked.

Rachel laughed softly. “Okay.”

\--

After dinner, Quinn followed Rachel to her room and they resumed working on their school work.

\--  
  
Rachel was more preoccupied with her phone than with the assignments and she felt a little bad about being so rude to Quinn, but she couldn’t help it. She half-expected Taylor to tell her not to come, and the prospect made her anxious.

“Do you want to just stop for tonight?” Quinn asked neutrally. “You seem kind of distracted.”

Rachel blushed and set her phone down. “Sorry,” she apologized. “I…I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Let’s work on it for a little longer,” Rachel suggested. She didn’t want to seem rude and she also wanted to be practical about her school work-- putting it off for another night didn’t make it go away.

“Okay.”

\--

In total, Quinn stayed for a few hours and they worked on their assignments for both English Literature and Family Studies.

Quinn was a good study partner because she was serious-minded and did her fair share of the work which was not the experience Rachel typically had when working in pairs or in groups. It sort of made sense to Rachel though because while Quinn had numerous friends whom Rachel found frivolous, Quinn herself was not.

“Hey,” Quinn said, “Is that _East of Eden_?” she asked, pointing to the book on Rachel’s nightstand.

Rachel glanced at it and smiled, remembering the day in detention when she ripped the book in half to quiet Quinn. She didn’t know what possessed her to do it and she spent longer than necessary taping it back together, but became irate because it just wasn’t attractive. She tossed her old copy into the recycling bin and bought a new copy. It wasn’t her favorite book or anything, but she found herself returning to it regularly and she couldn’t figure out why because she was wholly areligious and she generally didn’t appreciate religious metaphors, let alone a thick tome devoted to them.

“Yeah,” Rachel said, reaching for it and grabbing it. She flipped through the book and smiled.

“Did you buy a new one?” Quinn asked, squinting at it.

Rachel flushed. “Yes. It bothered me to have it bifurcated.”

Quinn bit her lower lip in amusement. “Bifurcated,” she repeated, shaking her head. “You really are incapable of speaking like a normal person, aren’t you?”

Rachel shrugged and smiled but didn’t say anything.

“I keep telling myself I need to buy it, but I always forget.”

“Oh,” Rachel said. “You liked it?”

“Well, I liked what I read.”

“Borrow mine,” Rachel said. She started to toss it at Quinn but then stopped, realizing that the book was probably way too thick to throw. She got up and held it out for Quinn to take. “Here.”

Quinn reached out to grasp the book but hesitated before pulling it away. They remained like that for a moment, Rachel, standing, and holding the book out for Quinn to take and Quinn, seating, holding onto to book but hesitating.

“Are you sure?”

Rachel smiled. “It’s just a book, Quinn.”

“Okay, then,” Quinn said, pulling the book.

Rachel backed away and sat down on the bed again. “I think I’m done for the night,” she said. “You?”

Quinn nodded. “Yeah,” she said. She stood up and stretched. “Your chair is really uncomfortable but it _looks_ deceptively comfortable” she declared.

Rachel laughed. “I know, it’s why I do all my studying on the bed.”

Quinn eyed Rachel with a look of mock indignant outrage. “And you made me sit in this uncomfortable chair?”

“Well, I didn’t make you,” Rachel said with a toothy grin. “You chose to sit in it, and I chose not to say anything about it.”

Quinn rolled her eyes and picked up an errant paper clip from Rachel’s desk and threw it at Rachel. Rachel caught it in one hand and tossed it onto her nightstand.

“Maybe you should try out for football,” Quinn joked. “You can already catch better than most of the guys on the team.”

Rachel grinned and stood up. She bent her knees and crouched into the scrimmage position. “Hut one, hut two, hut three, rawr,” she said, getting up and throwing an imaginary football. “Do you think I could be quarterback?”

“I think you learned nothing about football while dating Finn,” Quinn said dryly.

“On the contrary, I Wikipediaed it endlessly and watched countless hours of old football games to educate myself. I believe in trying to learn about the interests and passions of one’s partner, even if they are not shared passions or interests.”

Rachel flopped down onto her bed and leaned back on her elbows, grinning insouciantly at Quinn.

Quinn rolled her eyes.

“What if you dated someone who was really into…” Quinn trailed off as she tried to think of an interest that she found uninteresting. “Knitting?”

“I would visit the Stitch and Bitch website with regularity”

“Medical mutations and marvels?”

“I’m fascinated by craniofacial deformities myself.”

“Pokemon?”

“I choose you, Pikachu.”

“Pogs?”

“The big ones make very nice paperweights.”

“Dungeons and Dragons?”

Rachel paused. “I would once again turn to Wikipedia to gain a cursory understanding. I like to be prepared”

Quinn smiled. “I bet you’re one of those kids who loved the fire drill, didn’t you?”

Rachel grinned. “I reiterate-- I believe in preparedness. I have a survival kit in my car.”

“What kind of survival kit?”

“The usual, Quinn. Earthquakes, fires, hurricanes, power outages, nuclear winter, zombie attacks and the like.”

Rachel said everything with such a straight face, it took Quinn a moment to process the last two things, but when she finally did, she laughed.

“ _What_?” Quinn asked with a laugh.

Rachel’s smile was toothy. “I was just checking to see if you were listening to me.”

Quinn laughed. “You’re a geek.”

“Yes, we’ve established that on numerous occasions.”

Quinn paused as she listened to the song that just came on Rachel’s iPod on shuffle mode. She tilted her head, listening carefully. “What’s this song? Is this ‘Melt with You’? This isn’t Modern English. Who is this?”

Rachel turned up the volume. “It’s Nouvelle Vague. I like bossa nova.”

“I like it.”

Rachel smiled. “Hold on,” she said. “I’ll make you a CD.” She got up from the bed and approached the desk. “Excuse me,” she said politely as got onto her knees to open a drawer to pull out a spindle of blank CDs, empty CD cases and a packet of gold star stickers.

“You don’t have to.”

Rachel cocked an eyebrow. She looked up at Quinn. “You do realize there are very few things I love to do more than whore out my musical interests, don’t you?”

Quinn laughed. “Okay, sure. Thanks.”

Rachel grabbed the spindle and closed the drawer again. She walked back to the bed and sat down and popped the CD in. “It’ll just take a couple minutes,” she said, concentrating on her iTunes window to make the CD. Once it popped out, she put it into a case and grabbed the packet of gold star stickers and affixed one to the case with flourish. She held it up to Quinn.

Quinn rolled her eyes at the sight of the gold star, but she laughed. “You’re a geek,” she said. “Thanks.” She got up and took the CD from Rachel’s hands.

“You’re welcome.”

“Anyway, I should really get going.”

“Yeah,” Rachel said. “Pack your stuff up and I’ll walk you out.”

“Okay.”

Quinn put her laptop back in its case, stuck it into her backpack and then put away _East of Eden_ and the CD Rachel made for her. “I’ll try to give your book back as soon as possible.”

“Keep it as long as you need,” Rachel said, waving off Quinn’s concern as she walked Quinn to the door.

“Goodnight, partner. Drive safely.” Rachel said softly, peering up at Quinn as they stood by the front door.

“Goodnight, partner. I will. See you tomorrow.”

“Maybe not,” Rachel said. “I don’t feel that well,” she lied. “I think I’ll just take tomorrow off.”

“Oh,” Quinn said, a little surprised because Rachel didn’t seem that unwell to her anymore. She seemed like she felt better toward the end of the evening than at the beginning of it anyway. “Well, I hope you feel better.”

“Thanks,” Rachel said softly. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah, see you soon,” Quinn echoed.  
\--

Rachel waited for fifteen minutes and then pulled out the bag she’d already packed out of the closet. She drove three hours but she finally reached her destination.

“Hi,” Rachel greeted softly with a smile. She tilted her head to the right and peered up at Taylor and bit her lower lip. She smiled again. “You look pretty.”

Taylor looked solemn, but smiled. “Hi, cutie. _You_ look pretty.” She gave Rachel a tight smile. “You’ve always been so pretty.”

Rachel smiled. “That’s sweet of you.”

“But you really shouldn’t be here, Rach.”

“Don’t look so sad,” Rachel said softly. “It really is okay that I’m here.”

Taylor sighed. “It’s really not.”

“But you’re going to let me in, right?”

Taylor stepped away and held the door open wider. “Yeah,” she whispered.

\--

Now that she was older, it didn’t hurt anymore. It felt very good, in fact. If she ever disclosed this to Dr. Goodman, it was highly likely that Dr. Goodman’s brain would explode. But she didn’t want to do that to her therapist considering the primary reason her fathers put her in therapy was to deal with Daddy’s substance abuse issues-- as if she weren’t completely accustomed to that by now.

It felt good, finally, to have a little bit of control, to be the one to demand things, to finally have a voice in when and how it was done.

“Why did you do this to me?” Rachel whispered, hot tears leaking out of her eyes as she rubbed herself against the woman pinned beneath her. She was almost always on top now which made up for all the time when she was underneath Taylor who was always older, bigger and stronger. Taylor was still older, bigger and stronger, but Rachel was a little older, bigger and stronger, now too, and their differences weren’t as vast as they were so many years ago.

“”I’m sorry,” Taylor moaned out. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

“Why did you do this to me?” Rachel asked again because as fucked up as she was, she knew this wasn’t right, that she shouldn’t be so lovesick for this woman. “Why did you do this to me?”

“I’m sorry,” Taylor repeated. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry, little one. I just had no choice.”

Rachel’s voice broke. “Why did you make it hurt?”

“I’m sorry,” Taylor moaned. “I’m so sorry. God, we need to stop doing this.”

Rachel pressed her mouth close to Taylor’s ear. “It’s okay,” she sobbed. “It’s okay. Stop apologizing. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s okay because I love you, and I know you love me. This is good, this is right. Please stop saying we shouldn’t do this,” she cried. “This isn’t like it was before.” She continued to rub herself against the woman beneath her, moaning at the wet slide of flesh against flesh.

“I can’t,” Taylor sobbed. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Of course you can,” Rachel whispered. “I know you can because I can,” and she silenced Taylor’s protests with a kiss.

\--

They lied in bed next to each other. Taylor stroked Rachel’s hair as Rachel cried. It was done now and Rachel couldn’t help but cry afterward. She didn’t understand why she just couldn’t stop crying because she’d wanted this. This time, she’d wanted it.

“This was the last time,” Taylor said quietly. “I’m not going to do this to you anymore.”

Rachel smiled faintly. “What makes you think you’re doing anything _to_ me now? It’s not like how it was before, you know.”

Taylor flinched. “I’m too old for you.”

“You never cared before.” Rachel swallowed hard. “Why didn’t you care?”

“I did care,” Taylor whispered. “I’m so sorry, Rachel. You have no idea how sorry I am.”

Rachel trembled. “Why did you have to make it hurt all those times?”

“I’m sorry,” Taylor whispered again and she did in fact, sound completely miserable. She rubbed Rachel’s bare back. “This is our last time together,” she said softly.

“No, it’s not,” Rachel refuted quietly. “I’m older now. I know what I want. I want you.”

“I’m married now.”

“You don’t love him. Not like you do me. Get rid of him. Come back to Lima and stay with your mom. Wait for me to finish school and you can come with me when I go to Julliard. We can be together. You _promised_ me.”

Rachel thought back to all those nights with Taylor when she was younger. It didn’t matter what the temperature was like outdoors-- it could be a frigid winter night or a muggy summer evening, and her body always felt hot and the heat of Taylor’s body always scorched hers.

She remembered being five and pleading for Taylor to stop because it _hurt_ , and when she begged for Taylor to stop, the look Taylor would get on her face was _mean_ and scary. Those were the only times when Taylor was mean and scary and Rachel didn’t like it, but at least those moments of rage were predictable, so that made it kind of okay and she learned how to avoid incurring Taylor’s wrath simply by not crying and begging for it to stop. On the other hand, her fathers were unpredictable and even know, as a teenager ,she still couldn’t predict when they would get mean and scary, so she just tried to stay out of their way. Daddy was unpredictable because, duh, addicts tended to be and Dad was unpredictable because he was so worried and frustrated with Daddy. This had been the pattern of her life for as long as she could remember, so when she was younger, Taylor was the most consistent and reliable person in her life.

“This is how someone shows another person that they love them, little one,” Taylor would whisper. “It’s because I love you. Stop crying. If you stop crying, it won’t hurt anymore.”

But it was a lie because even though Rachel did her best not to cry, it still hurt. But she eventually learned not to cry, at least, most of the time. Sometimes it hurt particularly bad, and she couldn’t help it.

Afterward, Taylor would help her with a bath. It made sense when she was five and six, and even kind of at seven. Sometimes Taylor would take a bath with her, and Rachel would rest against Taylor’s body, relieved the bad part was over and it felt good to be in that hot soapy water with Taylor stroking her hair and being gentle with her. But when she was ten and still Taylor was bathing her, and occasionally bathing _with_ her, something nagged at Rachel that it wasn’t right, because she was perfectly capable of bathing herself and she preferred showers to baths anyway. But she couldn’t bring herself to voice anything because she was just so used to it. It was tradition and who broke from tradition?

“See how much I love you?” Taylor would murmur as Taylor gently loofahed her.

And yes, yes, Rachel could see.

“You can’t ever tell anyone,” Taylor said. “People think that only big people can love each other this way, but you’re a big girl, aren’t you? I wouldn’t like some little baby, but I love you, because you’re a big girl.”

And yes, _yes_ , Rachel wanted so much to be a big girl.

“This is our secret, right, little one?”

Rachel nodded.

“We could get in trouble if you tell. Do you want to get in trouble?”

Rachel shook her head.

“Do you want me to get in trouble?”

Again, Rachel shook her head.

“Good,” Taylor said gently. “Shh,” she said, holding her index finger to her lips. Her pinky and thumb peeked up and curled, so that it kind of looked like ‘I love you’ in sign language, only sideways.

“Shh,” Rachel whispered back, mirroring the gesture.

She was naked and felt vulnerable, but it didn’t seem…so wrong.

After every bath, Taylor always dried her off and dressed her, even though Rachel had long been capable of doing it herself. The first time Taylor tried to dress her, she’d been five and Rachel indignantly pointed out that she’d been capable of dressing herself since she was three. Taylor laughed softly, but she still continued to dress Rachel after a bath until it got to a point when Rachel was ten and it didn’t seem that abnormal. And she didn’t question it.

Then, after the bath, Taylor always made her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the shape of a star.

“See how much I love you?” Taylor would ask while Rachel munched on a sandwich and drank a cold glass of milk.

Rachel nodded, because she did. She really could see how much Taylor loved her and she adored Taylor with everything her heart possessed.

“I am going to marry you,” Rachel declared. “When I get bigger.”

Taylor chuckled. “Yes, you are. And I’m going to always love you and make you sandwiches in the shapes of stars. I promise.”

Rachel beamed at her and all the hurt from earlier in the night faded in her memory and gave way to the squishy feeling she got in her belly when Taylor Fabray smiled at her. It happened without fail, every single time. And when she got older, it stopped hurting so much and Taylor didn’t even have to make her a sandwich or pour her a glass of milk for Rachel to forgive her, Rachel just did.

Everyone had their rituals, and Rachel had hers. Her ritual with Taylor went on for five years before Taylor went to college and never wrote Rachel back, no matter how many emails Rachel sent.

Now that Taylor was back in her life, Rachel wasn’t going to let Taylor forget her promise so easily.

“You promised me,” Rachel whispered, burying her face into Taylor’s neck. She inhaled deeply and released her breath with a sigh. She pulled herself out of her reverie. “You _promised_ me.” She knew that this…this was _not right_ , and she’d tried so hard and for so long to forget about all this and just move on. But now that Taylor was back in her life, this is what she had. She couldn’t forget.

She knew it wasn’t fair to hold Taylor to such a promise, but really, who else does she have to hold on to?

“I know, little one,” Taylor murmured. She’d stopped crying and now she was stroking Rachel’s hair. ”I know what I promised you. Do you remember what you promised me, pretty girl?”

“Uh-huh.” Rachel said softly.

“What did you promise me?”

Rachel raised her index finger to her lips, her pinky and thumb peeking up and curly slightly. “Shh,” she whispered solemnly, her eyes very wide and unconsciously mimicking an expression she regularly wore in childhood.

She was sixteen now, but she felt about six years old at the moment.

“That’s right,” Taylor murmured. She brought her index finger to her lips and mirrored the pose Rachel made. “Shh,” she whispered. “Remember, honey. You promised you’d _never_ tell. That means forever, baby.”

“I know,” Rachel said quietly, a little petulant because Taylor always brought this subject of her silence up.

She smiled. “I really do love you, sweetheart. It’s just that no one would ever in a million years understand. I could go to jail. Do you want to do that?”

“Never,” Rachel breathed.

“You could ruin my life, you know, sweetheart. Do you want to do that to me, honey?”

“Never,” Rachel said breathlessly. “I’d never do that. I love you, Tay.”

“You and my sister are friends now, right?”

Rachel paused, a little thrown by the mention of Quinn. “Uh-huh.” She smiled faintly. “She’s my partner. In English Lit and Family Studies.”

“If you ruin my life, you could ruin hers, too. She’s my little sister.”

Rachel’s eyes were wide. “I know that,” she said quietly. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Or to her. I told you, she’s my partner,” she said softly.

Taylor caressed Rachel’s face. “Why do you keep coming back to me?” she murmured. “You make it so hard to stay away.”

“Sorry,” Rachel murmured.

“You were always so hard to resist, walking around in your underwear all the time. Do you remember that?”

Rachel nodded, but she really couldn’t remember. But if Taylor said it, then it must be true, because Taylor had been older and if there was one thing Rachel had figured out, kids didn’t always process things the way they actually happened.

“Just remember if you ever want to tell anyone about us, you remember to tell them about that, okay?”

Rachel swallowed hard and nodded. “ But I won’t ever tell,” she whispered. “I promise.”

“I know you wouldn’t, sweetheart,” Taylor said, her voice sweet. “But I just want to remind you to stay quiet. You stayed quiet for all these years and now that I’ve got you again, I don’t want you to let something slip, even if it’s inadvertent. Sometimes you talk way too much and it’s just the kind of stupid, thoughtless thing you might let slip out while you babble.”

Rachel’s eyes pricked with tears. “You’re being mean to me,” she whispered, fighting to keep the whine out of her voice. She knew she was too old to whine about that sort of thing. Sixteen was too damn old to be whining about being mean like she was six years old or something.

“I know, sweetheart. But I wouldn’t have to be mean to you if you’d just stay away from me.”

“You did this to me,” Rachel whispered. “You did this to me and now I can’t stay away.”

“I know I did,” Taylor said softly. “But you were there, too.”

“But I…” Rachel trailed off. She wasn’t sure how to refute that. She wasn’t even sure she could. “I know,” she finally said quietly.

“I just wanted you too much,” Taylor said with a sigh. “That’s why I can’t ever send you away. But I don’t want you to ruin our lives either. I’m just trying to protect both of us and make sure you don’t bring up the past to anyone. It’s like I told you, little one, it’s the past and we can’t change it, so why should you even bother telling anyone about it, unless your intent is to hurt me…”

Rachel was aghast. “I’d never do that.”

“I know, little one, I know. I just need to make sure. I get a little scared, too, you know. Can you promise me again you won’t ever tell?”

“I won’t ever tell,” Rachel swore. She raised her index finger to her lips, keeping her pinky and thumb up, slightly curled. “Shh,” she whispered.

Taylor smiled. “Exactly.” She kissed Rachel’s forehead. “It’s better now, right? It doesn’t hurt anymore. It feels good, doesn’t it?”

Rachel nodded. “It feels good.”

Taylor smiled at her. “I’m going to make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” she declared. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

Taylor was gone and Rachel was left alone in the bed.

“Fuck,” Rachel whispered quietly.

Taylor came back a few minutes later with a sandwich cut into a star and a cold glass of milk. Rachel didn’t bother pointing out she was vegan, so she took the glass with a big smile and a thank-you and took a large gulp. She took her first bite of her sandwich as Taylor gazed at her. Rachel ducked her head and smiled shyly around a mouthful of peanut butter-and-jelly on Wonder bread.

Taylor smiled back and raised her index finger to her lips.

Rachel nodded.

\--

She spent the weekend with Taylor and she alternated between euphoria and disgust, between clarity and confusion.

“This was the last time,” Taylor said softly, as she wrapped the scarf around Rachel’s neck late on Sunday night as she walked Rachel to the door.

Rachel shook her head. “Don’t say that,” she pleaded quietly.

“Drive safe, sweetheart,” Taylor whispered. She kissed her. “I love you, but this was the last time. It has to be.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Go home, little one,” Taylor said softly as she gently pushed Rachel out the door.

\--

She cried the entire way back to Lima.

\--

By Monday morning she managed to pull herself together to make it to school.

“Hey, partner,” Quinn said with a smile as she passed Rachel’s desk en route to her seat in first period. The blonde dropped a small stack of papers on Rachel’s desk. “Glad you’re feeling better. I photocopied our class notes from Friday. I thought I should beat you to the punch since you were going to ask me anyway.”

Rachel smiled. “Thanks, partner. Do you want to come over tonight to work on stuff?”

“Sure.”

\--

They made it through the school day and then went to Rachel’s house after dismissal.

Since Rachel’s desk chair was deemed unsuitably uncomfortable, they both sat on the bed to work on the assignment.

“Here,” Quinn said, pulling a CD out of her bag. “I made you a CD since you made one for me.”

Rachel smiled. “You did?” she asked, brightening. “Thank you.”

Quinn blushed. “It’s mostly old Motown. I love that stuff because my mom listened to it a lot when I was younger.”

Rachel beamed at her. “I love that stuff, too.” She booted up her laptop because she was going to load whatever songs she didn’t already have onto her iPod. She’d listened to a lot of Motown while spending the weekend with Taylor and it struck her once again how the sisters really were alike, even down to their interests.

Once her computer was ready, she stuck the CD into the drive and cued up iTunes.

She smiled as the opening bars to “Baby Love” filled the room.

“I love this song, but for some reason, I don’t have it on my iPod,” Rachel said, connecting her iPod to her laptop.

Quinn smiled. “Glad you like it.” She pulled out her laptop and booted it up as well. “Let’s get started, okay, partner?”

“Sure thing, partner.”

\--

They worked on their literature assignment first because they could work on it independently before bringing their separate parts together. They laid side-by-side on their stomachs on Rachel’s bed as they typed away.

“Mr. Varela is so full of shit.”

“He is,” Rachel agreed.

“At least we’re almost done with this stupid assignment.”

“Yes.”

Quinn was annoyed. “Why aren’t you more irate?”

Rachel smiled. “I’m serene about the things I cannot change.”

Quinn laughed. “Of course you are.”

“I just emailed you my part. Why don’t you take a look at it when you have a chance and then you can email me your part and I’ll combine the two?”

“I just emailed you my part, too.”

Rachel smiled and she cheered softly. “It’s a good thing we work at the same pace.”

Quinn smiled back. “Yeah. Do you want to get started on our Family Studies project?”

Rachel groaned. “Not particularly. Do you want to play cards?”

Quinn laughed. “Weren’t you already? I saw you playing Solitaire.”

Rachel blushed. “Don’t shame me!” she exclaimed with a laugh.

“I’m not” Quinn giggled. “The truth just hurts.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “I thought we were partners,” she complained good-naturedly, “which would involve some degree of support.”

“Part of being partners in grounding one another in reality,” Quinn said dryly.

Rachel laughed, a little charmed by Quinn’s dry humor. It was a lot more charming when it wasn’t vicious or comprised of barbs directed at her. “Yes, okay.”

Quinn sighed and flopped onto her back which caused her to roll a little closer to Rachel and Rachel caught a whiff of the perfume Quinn was wearing. She froze when she recognized the scent because Taylor wore the same scent. Granted she never stood or sat that physically close to Quinn, but she’d never detected that perfume on Quinn before, and she’d detected other perfumes on Quinn on other occasions. She’d noticed vague similarities in the way Quinn and Taylor smelled-- sort of like the very subtle differences between oranges and Satsumas and it’d always kind of disturbed her. But now with the exact same perfume, Quinn smelled _just_ like Taylor. Rachel swallowed hard. Her stomach suddenly hurt and it turned. She couldn’t figure out why this was.

Most of the time she could forget that Quinn was Taylor’s little sister despite the uncanny resemblance. But to realize that Quinn even _smelled_ like Taylor was so jarring for Rachel.

“Hey,” Quinn said. She sounded alarmed and she sat up, reaching for Rachel. “Are you okay? You look…”

“I’m fine!” Rachel exclaimed, sitting up and scrambling away from Quinn, because _God_ , this…she didn’t even know what to think. She tried _not_ to think. ‘Get away from me, get away from me,’ she thought, unable to stop her racing thoughts. ‘Oh God, don’t touch me. Get away from me.’

“But you look--”

Quinn reached for her again and in Rachel’s desperate attempt to evade her, she scrambled away so violently and fell off the bed.

“Oh my God, are you okay?”

“I just…I…I’m going to throw up,” Rachel said. She bolted for her en suite bathroom and just barely made it on time. Where was all this coming from? She didn’t know why she was having such a violent reaction because she honestly _liked_ the way Taylor smelled, so she shouldn’t have such an adverse reaction to realizing that Taylor and Quinn had commonalities.

Even as she threw up, she wondered what the hell was wrong with her. She heaved the empty contents of her stomach into the toilet. Quinn was suddenly behind her-- so close, _too close_.

“Okay,” Quinn said. “Just take it easy,” she murmured, rubbing Rachel’s back in a manner she thought was comforting, and really, would have been if Quinn had been anyone else. Quinn’s hand was soft and gentle as it rubbed her back. “I’ll be right back,” she murmured. “I’m going to get you a glass of water.”

By the time Quinn got back with a glass of water, Rachel was already brushing her teeth.

Quinn looked at her worriedly. “Are you okay?”

Rachel held up one finger, wordlessly asking Quinn to hold on. Rachel watched Quinn through the mirror, watched Quinn watching her. Once she was done, she spat out the toothpaste, rinsed her mouth, cleaned her toothbrush and turned back to Quinn to gratefully accept the glass of water. She took a long gulp.

“What happened?” Quinn asked. “That just came out of nowhere. Are you okay? Were you really sick over the weekend?”

Rachel’s smile was faint, all inscrutable and Mona Lisa-like. “I’m fine.”

“Do you need anything?”

Rachel shook her head.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Quinn bit her lip. “I think I should go home and let you rest.”

“I’m fine, really. But maybe we should just…reschedule. Is that okay? See you tomorrow?”

“Of course it’s okay. But are you sure you’re okay?” Quinn said. She moved closer to Rachel, but Rachel retreated slightly, covering it up by reaching for towel to wipe her mouth.

“Yes, I’m really okay,” Rachel assured with a big smile.

“Okay,” Quinn said softly. “Feel better,”

“I will. Thanks.”

Quinn left the bathroom and went into the bedroom and Rachel pressed her face against the door jam of her bathroom door and watched as Quinn packed her stuff up. She walked the blonde to the door.

“Goodnight, partner,” Rachel said quietly.

“Goodnight, partner,” Quinn echoed. “I hope you feel better.”

“Thanks. Sorry about all that.”

“It’s okay. We’ll just work on it tomorrow. Get some rest.”

Quinn gave a tiny wave and then turned around to walk away. Rachel waited until Quinn was safely in her car to close the door. She walked back to her room and flopped onto her bed, but the smell of Quinn’s perfume-- _Taylor’s_ perfume lingered where Quinn had lain.

Rachel reached for her phone.

“You ruined me,” Rachel whispered when Taylor picked up.

“I know,” Taylor murmured softly. “You ruined me, too. I know it hurts, but you can’t ever tell, little one. Okay? When you think you’re going to break, you call me, all right, sweetheart? But you can’t tell anyone else. What I did to you, I did it because I just loved you too much. And you know what it’s like to love something too much, don’t you? You know what it’s like to do bad things out of love.”

“I hate you,” Rachel sobbed. But she totally understood doing fucked up things out of love.

“Don’t fall apart on me now, little one. You’ve been so strong for me for all these years. Are you going to stay strong for me?”

Rachel sniffled. It took her a moment to answer. “Yes,” she whispered. “I want to stay strong for you.”

“That’s good to hear,” Taylor murmured. “I’ve kind of been getting the sense that it’s getting hard for you to keep this to yourself.”

“A little bit,” Rachel admitted.

“But you get it, right? You get why you can never tell? We talked about a lot while you were here.”

“I get it,” Rachel whispered. “I won’t ever tell,” she swore. “I’d never do that to you. I love you.”

“I know you do, little one. It’s just hard not to get scared when you tell me you hate me.”

“I don’t really hate you,” Rachel said quietly.

“I know you don’t. You just keep your promise to me, okay? And I promise I’ll always love you. I can’t promise we’ll be together, but I promise you, I’ll always love you.”

“Okay,” Rachel said softly.

“You just can’t tell okay?”

“What are you going to do to me if I ever tell?” Rachel asked, her voice small.

When she was younger, there were always threats. Threats of physical violence, threats of accusations of impropriety by her fathers, threats of not loving her anymore. Just threats. And Taylor had a way of making it hurt enough that Rachel didn’t want to test her.

Now she was curious. She’d never tell, of course, but now she was curious about what Taylor would do to her, what she could threaten.

Taylor was quiet a long time before she spoke again. “Well, little one, I’m not going to do anything to you. What could I do? But I would be really hurt and then I’d know you never actually loved me.”

“I do love you,” Rachel broke in, her voice insistent.”I won’t tell. I was just curious.”

“Jesus,” Taylor chuckled with a soft laugh. “You almost gave me a heart attack over curiosity? Why are you testing me?”

Rachel couldn’t help but smile a little. “Sorry.”

“No, seriously,” Taylor said, and her voice hardened slightly. “Why are you fucking testing me?”

Rachel winced. “I wasn’t trying to do that… I…I’m sorry,” she said scrambling to placate her.

“Did you think that was funny? To test me like that?”

“No!” Rachel exclaimed. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“My whole life is in your hands, you know,” Taylor said. “You could ruin me. This isn’t funny to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Rachel whispered. “I…I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You can’t ever tell, Rachel.”

 

Rachel deflated slightly, she didn’t get why Taylor was beating this issue to death when she already promised she’d never tell. “I won’t ever tell anyone about us.”

“That’s my good girl. I love you, little one. But I need to go now, okay?”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Rachel hung up and sighed. She pressed her face into her pillow. When she was six, and her Daddy was going through another stint in rehab, she didn’t know exactly what was going on, but she figured out enough to know that adults were mostly liars. By the time she was ten and Taylor left her, she’d figured out that people in general were liars, too.

Maybe herself included.

\--

Quinn stopped at her desk the next day in first period.

“You must be feeling better.”

“Yes”

“Do you want to come over to my house today?” Quinn asked. “My mom wanted me to invite you over to dinner if you’re feeling up to it. She said you could probably use a home-cooked meal.”

Rachel laughed softly. “I’ll pass on the dinner. I have some stuff to do after school. But I’ll come over. We need to finish up that stuff.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Rachel smiled. “See you, partner.”

Quinn smiled back. “Sure, partner.”


	3. Chapter 3

It took a while, but they finally finished their Family Studies assignment. The assignment for English lit had been a cakewalk in comparison. When she and Rachel finally turned in their family histories project at the start of fourth period, they exchanged high-fives before proceeding to their respective desks-- a gesture mirrored by nearly all the other students pairs who were equally exhausted by the assignment.

Though Quinn half-expected her to bring it up, Rachel never brought up her father’s drug problems and Quinn suspected that much of the history Rachel gave was as sanitized as the version of her own family history that Quinn gave. After all, there was only so personal one could get in a high school paper.

But it still made Quinn think about a lot of things regarding her family she hadn’t thought about in years and she sort of missed her now-absent father. She’d worshipped him when she was a kid and she was disappointed and saddened by what their relationship became. She missed her sister and wished Taylor lived a little closer. She wished Taylor would want to be more involved with her and their family. She just wanted to have a family again and for things to be the way they were before.

“Let’s celebrate,” Quinn said linking arms with Rachel after class en route to their fifth period AP American History class. “I know we can’t do much because we have school tomorrow, but let’s watch a movie after school and get something fattening to eat now that this assignment is done.” She and Rachel had become pretty close through working on their two paired assignments and she thought a celebration seemed pretty natural now that the more difficult one was submitted.

Rachel smiled. “Okay.”

\--

They slowly became friends. First through their school work and glee, but this turned into watching movies and then outings and activities that didn’t revolve around studying, a school project or glee. Rachel being…well, Rachel, was exactly how Quinn thought she was going to be, whilst simultaneously not quite being what Quinn expected. For someone so annoyingly brash and whose heart was too close to the lining of her coat, Rachel possessed a surprising amount of mystique when she was one-on-one.

“Here,” Rachel said, passing Quinn a CD as they lay at the foot of Quinn’s bed. “It was my turn, you know.”

Quinn smiled. “What is it?”

“It’s a compilation this time,” Rachel said. “But I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

In the two months since they’d first exchanged CDs over that assignment for Family Studies (for which they received an ‘A’) they’d nearly doubled their CD collections by exchanging CDs for one another.

Rachel shimmied up Quinn’s bed, and action that made Rachel’s butt wiggle in the air and a sight that made Quinn stare. Rachel grabbed a book of Quinn’s nightstand. “Quinn! This is _East of Eden_! You borrowed this from me months ago!” she exclaimed indignantly.

“Well?” Quinn said with a laugh. “You said to take your time, and anyway I have a lot going on in my life, you know. I don’t have a lot of time for leisure reading.”

Rachel huffed with displeasure. “Are you saying that I do? Because I’ll have you know I participate in a range of extracurricular activities for school and I have a multitude of outside interests and commitments which occupy vast quantities of my time.”  
  
Quinn smiled fondly. “Plus, you spend vast quantities of time with me making fun of other people.”

Rachel still looked displeased. “I do not make fun of other people, I simply observe you do it.”

“But you laugh.”

“I don’t laugh. I vocalize my disapproval with a sound that may sound like a guffaw or chuckle to untrained ears such as yours, but it was actually more of a warble expressing a measure of grief at your tendency to revel in mocking the shortcomings of others.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “If you’re so disapproving, why does it sound like you’re laughing?”

“I’m very musical, Quinn. Even my disapproval sounds melodic.”

Quinn stared at her, mouth agape and then immediately broke into laughter. “You should be a politician,” she said, once she caught her breath.

Rachel smiled. “I agree that I would be a very effective politician. Sadly however, politics, much like high school is a popularity contest that relies far too heavily on the hoi polloi.”

Quinn shook her head. “You’re a geek.”

“Yes, this is true,” Rachel acknowledged. She giggled and reached for _East of Eden_ and opened it to Quinn’s bookmark, about 3/4ths of the way in and scanned the page with her eyes. “It’s getting good, right? Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” Quinn said. “It’s taking me a long time to read it because whole weeks will go by without me picking it up and I have to go back to remember what’s going on.” She smiled at Rachel. “I bet you like this book so much because you relate a lot to Cal,” she teased. “You know, being misunderstood and trying hard to be good but doing the wrong thing sometimes?”

“I never said I liked it that much,” Rachel said. Although she did like it, it wasn’t her favorite book or anything. “And anyway, I relate more to Cathy.”

Quinn blinked, a little startled because Cathy was the book’s villain, mysteriously lacking in qualities that made people intrinsically human. Did Rachel really relate to her? Because that just didn’t make any sense to Quinn.

Rachel smiled. “I’m kidding,” she said, smoothing out the furrow in Quinn’s brow. “I can’t say I related to any of the characters. I just enjoyed the story.”

Quinn swatted playfully at Rachel’s hand. “Way to go making me think I was hanging out with some future serial killer.”

Rachel smiled. “Would Cathy be considered a serial killer? How many people did she kill? Three? You have to kill at least three to be a serial killer, right?”

“Probably,” Quinn acknowledged. “I don’t actually know.” She paused. “Do you want to go get some dinner?”

“I can’t,” Rachel said apologetically. She rose to her feet and stretched, which caused her shirt to ride up and very slightly expose her stomach.

Quinn stared and then looked away quickly.

“Oh,” Quinn said.

“I have that project for History with Santana, remember? I’m supposed to be at her house in thirty minutes.”

“Oh,” Quinn said, making a face at the mention of her former friend’s name.

Rachel frowned. “You guys should make up. You’ve been friends for a very long time. I think it’s very petty to terminate a lifelong friendship over one dispute.”

“It’s not just one dispute,” Quinn snapped harshly. “She was always doing shitty things to me.” She softened when she saw the way Rachel physically recoiled at her tone. “Sorry,” she apologized, entreating for understanding. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at her.”

“Okay,” Rachel said. “Anyway. I have that project, so I should get going now.”

Santana lived two blocks away and it would only take a few minutes to get there. It wouldn’t take thirty minutes to get there.”

“Sorry, Rach,” Quinn said softly.

“It’s not your fault, I shouldn’t have become involved anyway. It was none of my business.”

“I shouldn’t have been so shitty to you.”

“You weren’t. It’s okay,” Rachel said. “But I should go. I’ll let myself out.” She gave Quinn a brief smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, waving.

Quinn sighed once Rachel was gone. She felt terrible that Rachel practically _fled_ the room. She wanted to be a better person, but she was also a lot happier when she was on top of the school food chain rather than at the middle or bottom and sometimes it took a little bitchiness to retain that position. Still, even with that, she always tried to be a good friend and so she was sorry about snapping at Rachel, just like she was kind of sorry for selling out Santana. She used to _want_ to inspire fear in Rachel Berry and now the fact that she made Rachel want to flee a room was…painful. She saw the look on Rachel’s face and it wasn’t one she wanted to put on Rachel’s face again. She didn’t care if she scared other people, but she did care if she scared Rachel.

She sent Rachel a text.

 _Sorry, I was a bitch_.

Rachel’s reply came a few minutes later.

_It’s okay. You weren’t. I’ll see you tomorrow_

Quinn still felt bad.  
\--

The next day Quinn arrived at school and spotted Rachel standing with Brittany and Santana, laughing that deliriously amused open-mouthed laugh. Quinn felt a stab of jealousy, but she wasn’t sure if it was more for Rachel for hanging out with Brittany and Santana or Brittany and Santana for hanging out with Rachel.

Rachel glanced up and happened to see Quinn and her face lit up. Rachel excused herself and bounded over to Quinn.

“Hey partner!” she exclaimed cheerfully. “I have presents for you!”

“You do?” Quinn asked, amused.”What’s the occasion?”

“Just because!” Rachel said with a broad grin. “I ordered them off the internet a few weeks ago and they were in my mailbox when I got home from Santana’s last night!”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “You ordered them off the internet? Should I be worried about this? What kind of depraved thing did you get me?” she joked.

Rachel swatted playfully at Quinn’s arm. “I found these items and thought of you! Online shopping is perfectly safe and acceptable now. Statistics show that more people feel comfortable shopping online than ever before.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Give me my presents, Berry.”

Rachel grinned at her and pulled out a paper bag. “I present to you…bacon! Your favorite thing in the whole world, for you once declared, and I quote, ‘bacon is life!’” she exclaimed cheerfully. She pulled the first item out of the bag and held it out for Quinn to take. “Bacon toothpicks, flavored with bacon, which by the way, must be revolting and I advise you that you do not actually use them but keep them for its novelty, because this container is really adorable.” She smiled at Quinn when Quinn reached for it. She pulled out the next item from her bag. “And bacon soap! Which again, I advise you against using, but the tin it comes is aesthetically pleasing to one’s eye, and again, there’s the novelty of it.” She passed the item to Quinn who took it in stunned wordlessness. “And look! Bacon band-aids. These are band-aids which rather than being traditionally band-aid in appearance, or depicting the likes of Spongebob Squarepants or Hello Kitty, depict bacon which brings a new dimension to the appearance of first aid! And finally,” Rachel said, presenting the final item with flourish and passing it to Quinn who took it. “Bacon dental floss! Again, I must caution you against actually using this item because apparently they are flavored to mimic bacon and while I know you enjoy the taste of bacon, I cannot imagine that the process of mimicking its taste onto dental care items is a process that is particularly savory.”

Quinn surveyed the items in her hands and laughed. “I think,” she drawled. “I’ve overstated my love for bacon to you. But thank you,” Quinn said sincerely, because really, no one ever gave her just-because presents.

Rachel beamed at her. “Do you like them?”

“I do,” Quinn affirmed nodding.

She put everything in her bag and gave Rachel a one-armed hug and linked arms with the brunette so they could walk to their first period class together. She thought for sure Rachel would be a little cross with her over yesterday, especially because Rachel left so quickly, but Rachel seemed the same as she always did. Quinn was kind of relieved by that.

“Did you get anything for yourself?” Quinn asked.

“I also bought myself some novelty band-aids,” Rachel said with a grin. “Which I’ve already had the opportunity to use because I sustained a paper cut this morning.” Rachel held up her palm to show Quinn.

Quinn chuckled when she saw the band-aid depicted a kiss. “Cute,” she said dryly.

Rachel laughed, “I thought so.”

“Hey,” Quinn said. “Do you want to go to Mike’s party with me tonight?”

Since Santana and Brittany distanced themselves from her, she didn’t really have a lot of friends she could hang out with outside of school other than Rachel. People invited her to parties and group outings, but she didn’t want to go to those alone. During school she had the Cheerios whom Rachel studiously avoided. And anyway, Rachel was only in the cafeteria during lunch about half the time, the other half, Quinn had no idea where Rachel went or what she did, and Rachel always laughed off Quinn’s questions with excuses about doing research in the library or meeting with a teacher. Somehow, during these times, she managed to lose Rachel even though they shared all their classes and they always walked out of the class before lunch together.

Rachel paused. “I can’t,” she said. “I…already have plans. I’m not going to…” she trailed off.

Quinn looked at her curiously. “What?”

“I just can’t, I’m sorry,” Rachel said, and she looked so miserable that Quinn just chose not to push.

“Okay,” Quinn said simply. “Another time then, there will always be other parties.”

Rachel smiled at her. “Yeah.”

“Maybe I’ll finally finish _East of Eden_ this weekend,” Quinn mused.

Rachel smiled. “Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe you’ll get caught up with back issues of _Entertainment Weekly_.”

Quinn laughed in mock outrage and she playfully shoved Rachel. “Don’t shame me!”

Rachel laughed.

\--

Quinn had nothing much to do all weekend except get caught up in school work and finish reading _East of Eden_. She sent a triumphant text to Rachel, who texted her back with a smiley face and an asterisk that was clearly meant to represent a gold star. Quinn thought about sending Santana a text apologizing for ratting her out to Sylvester about her breast augmentation, but Quinn was still too angry about the Beth comment Santana made to truly be contrite.

She decided just to stay in for the weekend because she didn’t really feel like making nice with people who weren’t really her friends. She thought about asking Kurt or Mercedes to hang out, but she didn’t feel like hanging out with them either even though they’d both been very good friends to her.

\--  
  
The next time she saw Rachel was that following Monday. Quinn wanted to ask about her weekend, but she didn’t want to tread where Rachel didn’t want her to go. Rachel looked cheerful, but there was something subdued there.

“Hey, want to get something to eat?” Quinn asked after school as they walked out of their last class for the day. She just wanted to do _something_.

“Uh, not really,” Rachel said. “But do you want to come over for a while?”

“Sure,” Quinn said with a grin.

\--

They sat on Rachel’s bed and turned on the TV. Rachel flipped through the channels trying to find something good to watch, but the options were few.

“Is your dad back from California yet? He’s been gone for so long,” Quinn said, just to make conversation. Rachel seemed a little somber. She was still chatty, but it seemed a little forced to Quinn.

Rachel smiled. “No, he’s not back yet,” she said softly.

“What does he do?”

Rachel hesitated. “He’s a consultant, mostly…he travels a lot when he works.”

“And he’s gone this long? I mean, it’s been a few months.”

Rachel looked uncomfortable. “Well…I…don’t control market forces,” she said lamely. “My other dad is a doctor.”

“Oh,” Quinn said. “Well… that’s cool. You must miss him. Your dad in California, I mean.”

Rachel nodded. “Yeah,” she said softly. She suddenly looked very dejected.

“Are you okay, Rach?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“So when do you think he’ll come back?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel muttered.

“But he’ll be back soon, I guess, right?

“I…I don’t…” Rachel trailed off, frustrated. “I don’t know.”

“He hasn’t given you or your other dad an idea? I mean, is everything okay with him?”

Quinn wasn’t trying to be nosey, but Rachel clearly missed her dad. Plus, Quinn really was curious about what could be holding the guy up for so long/

“I…I really don’t know, Quinn,” Rachel said quietly. “He’s…” Rachel sighed. “You…you can keep a secret, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Better than the one about Santana’s breast augmentation?” Rachel pressed.

“She provoked me!” Quinn said defensively.

“Quinn, this is really important,” Rachel said quietly. “Can you keep something to yourself?”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Of course,” she said. “What is it?”

“My dad’s an addict,” Rachel said quietly. “He went to California for a 30 day detox, but now he won’t come back. He’s probably using again, even though he says he’s not. He says it’s easier staying clean out there, but I don’t think so. My other dad wants to believe it though. I talked to Daddy this weekend and he _sounded_ high, so I’m pretty sure he’s using again,” Rachel sighed. “I really don’t know when I’ll ever see him again.”

“Oh,” Quinn said quietly, and she felt horrible because she already knew that one of Rachel’s fathers was an addict since her sister revealed that to her. “I’m sorry.”

Rachel gave her a tiny smile. “Why do you suppose it’s part of etiquette that we apologize for things we have no control over? I understand its function in terms of communicating sympathy and empathy, but it seems rather impractical to apologize when the purpose is not to express contrition, but some type of solidarity.”

Quinn chuckled softly and she wordlessly put her arm around Rachel and pulled her in. Rachel sighed and rested her head against Quinn’s shoulder. They watched TV in silence, Rachel flickering between the channels, always in search of something better or more interesting.

“You know,” Quinn said, when a couple of hours had passed without either of them saying a word or barely moving as Rachel continued to channel surf. “There’s always _Law and Order_. I’m pretty sure there’s one on every hour of any given day.”

Rachel laughed and pulled away, she looked at Quinn fondly. “Come on, get up,” she said, lightly slapping Quinn’s leg. “I’ll buy you dinner. Something with an obscenely vulgar amount of bacon or some other animal product for which you may be in the mood to consume.”

“Lead the way.”

\--

Rachel seemed in better spirits after dinner, but there was still something somber and subdued about her that Quinn couldn’t put her finger on it.

She followed Rachel back to her house and they worked on some homework and watched some TV.

\--

She woke up at 2 am in Rachel’s bed, her body curled toward Rachel’s, facing her. They were only inches apart. It was by far the most intimate position she’d ever woken up in and for a moment, she was disoriented enough that she just snuggled closer, so that their bodies barely touched. That seemed to rouse Rachel, just a little, because Rachel spoke.

“T,” Rachel murmured. “Shut off the light. We must have fallen asleep,” she said sleepily.

Rachel’s sleepy voice pulled Quinn out of her disoriented near-slumber. They must have fallen asleep.

Quinn sat up quickly. “Rach!”

Rachel sat up and blinked, looking almost surprised by Quinn’s presence. “Quinn?”

“Oh no,” Quinn bemoaned, grabbing her phone and seeing the multiple missed calls and text messages from her mother. “My mom is going to be pissed. She’s never going to believe that I just fell asleep at your house. Ever since the thing with…well, you know. She doesn’t exactly trust me.”

“I’ll go with you,” Rachel said. “Come on, we’ll explain it to her.”

Quinn looked at her dubiously. “There’s no point in--”

“It’ll be fine, really, if I go with you, it’ll give credence to it.”

Quinn released a shaky breath. “Okay,” she said gratefully.

Rachel followed behind her in her car. Her mother was waiting in the living room looking stern and worried, but once she saw Quinn walk into the room, followed by Rachel she seemed to relax. Having Rachel there really did make her mother believe her and Judy let out a low chuckle and shook her head. “Next time just have your phone ring at a volume that is audible,” she chided.

Rachel smiled triumphantly. “See?” she said to Quinn. “I knew it would be fine. Goodnight, Quinn. Goodnight, Ms. Fabray.”

“Text Quinn when you get home, Rachel. And drive carefully.”

Rachel smiled. “I will, thank you.”

Rachel left and Quinn’s mother turned to her and smiled. “She seems like a very good friend,” Judy commented.

Quinn smiled back. “She is.”

Although she just wanted to get into bed and sleep, Quinn showered to wash off her makeup and the grime of her day, because good skin care regiments trumped sleep. Afterward, she poured herself into bed. She checked her phone and grinned to see that Rachel had texted her. _I’m still alive, see you tomorrow_.

It was only when she closed her eyes and was about to drift off that she remembered what Rachel said when she was still asleep, before all the panic and worry set.

_“T, shut off the light. We must have fallen asleep.”_

Who the _hell_ was T? Was Rachel secretly dating someone? It sort of made sense now that Quinn thought about it because Rachel could be secretive, although this was the sort of thing Quinn thought Rachel would tell her about.

“Shit,” Quinn whispered opening her eyes. Now she was wide awake. She grabbed her phone and texted Rachel even though she knew it was probably too late and maybe Rachel was already asleep.

_Who’s T? Are you dating someone? Are you holding out on me, Berry? LOL. Spill!_

She tried to make it sound like a joke, but she was genuinely curious.

Rachel’s reply came a few moments later.

 _I don’t know what you’re talking about. Did I talk in my sleep? Maybe I was dreaming. I’d never hold out on you_.

Quinn chuckled and this time, she fell asleep.

\--

“Hey, partner,” Rachel greeted Quinn the next day at school. “Was everything genuinely okay with your mother or was that another one of your WASPy family’s attempt to keep up with appearances.”

Quinn laughed wryly. “Everything was fine though I’m not sure how long _your_ appearance will remain that way,” she joked, shaking her fist close to Rachel’s face.

Rachel smiled. “So no negative repercussions?”

“Well, I’m tired. That’s a negative repercussion. Why are you so perky? It’s abnormal.”

Rachel ginned. “I meant negative repercussions with your mom. My fathers aren’t very much into discipline anymore now that I’ve reached such an advanced age and I’m therefore practically feral,” Rachel joked. “So I have to confess I’m not familiar with such things. Are you grounded or something?”

Quinn smiled. “No, I’m not grounded or anything. My mom believed us because it was the truth.” She paused. “But thanks for coming with me to face the music,” she said quietly. “It meant a lot. I know you didn’t have to.”

Rachel smiled back. “Of course,” she said simply. “Anyway, I thought you might like to hang out again tonight. Complete some homework, possibly watch a movie?”

Quinn smiled. “Sure. I just can’t stay out too late.”

Rachel smiled. “Wholly understandable.” Her eyes skittered past Quinn and Quinn turned to see Santana looking over at them. Rachel held up her hand, catching Santana’s attention. “I borrowed her mother’s Spanish-English dictionary for that essay for Mr. Schue,” Rachel explained. “I’m going to go return it. I’ll see you in first period,” she said, running off toward Santana who glared at Quinn before smiling at Rachel in greeting.

Quinn clenched her jaw and walked to first period alone. She missed Santana and Brittany-- those two were kind of a package deal, but she was still mad at Santana for ever mentioning Beth. She didn’t miss Santana enough to stop being mad and she didn’t like the newfound friendship Santana and Brittany seemed to have with Rachel. Santana and Brittany had each other, so why couldn’t she have Rachel to herself?

She was kind of suspicious of Santana’s motivations for befriending Rachel because that only happened after she and Rachel became friends. But she didn’t want to bring it up because she didn’t want to make Rachel angry for suggesting that the only reason Santana befriended her was to make Quinn jealous. That seemed pretty offensive, but she worried about Santana’s motivations and she worried about Santana poisoning the well against her.

\--

Rachel slipped into first period after Quinn did, but still before the bell. She approached Quinn’s desk and smacked something onto Quinn’s desk, her hand covering it.

“The vending machine had craisins which they hardly ever have,” Rachel said with a smile.”I got the last one because I know you like them.”

Quinn chuckled, a little touched. “Thanks, I’ll share them with you during Nutrition.”

Rachel smiled. “Thanks.”

\--

So for a while, everything was pretty much status quo until her sister, Taylor, came home in April to celebrate Quinn’s birthday with an announcement. Taylor and her husband were moving to Japan for a year so he could open up a couple of UPS stores there, too. It was completely unexpected and it seemed like maybe Taylor made that decision impulsively. But then again, Jeffery was already out there waiting for her, so it made sense that Taylor would want to be with him, but it was still giving up a lot.

Their mother was clearly distressed, but Quinn was happy for Taylor because it meant that maybe Taylor and her husband had moved past their marital woes. Or at least Taylor was more willing to work on them. He was a schmuck, but she didn’t want her sister to be a divorcee at twenty-five either.

\--

She, Santana and Brittany made up on her birthday. She threw herself a birthday party, and nearly everyone she invited showed up. Santana and Brittany came over with a birthday present and Brittany hugged her and brightly wished her a happy birthday. She and Santana didn’t hug or anything, but Santana gruffly wished her a happy birthday and didn’t glare at Quinn while she said it, which was kind of a nice change of pace. Quinn said “thanks” and they hung out for the rest of the night.

“Where’s Rach?” Santana asked when a few hours had passed with no sign of the diminutive brunette.

“I don’t know,” Quinn admitted.

“I’ll text her,” Brittany offered.

At some point in the evening, they’d all texted or tried calling Rachel, but there was no response. Her phone was on, but it went to voicemail.

People came and went and Brittany and Santana were the last ones to leave because they helped clean up, and still Rachel had not shown up.

She waited all night for Rachel, but Rachel never showed up.

The party was on a Friday and she texted Rachel all weekend long, but Rachel never responded.

“Where is this girl?” Quinn ground out in frustration on Sunday night

“Who?” Taylor asked questioningly. She was still visiting for Quinn’s seventeenth birthday, but she was due to leave in a few hours.

“Rachel! I can’t believe she flaked on my birthday party!”

“Oh,” Taylor said. “Well, you’re asking the wrong girl about that.”

Quinn looked at her oddly. “That was a rhetorical question, stupid.”

Taylor laughed. “ _You’re_ stupid.”

“Oh, shut up,” Quinn said fondly, with a laugh. Her sister made her feel a little better by making her laugh, but she was still a little frustrated by the mysterious lack of communication from Rachel.

\--

But when Rachel didn’t show up to school on Monday, Quinn started to worry. She called and texted Rachel, but there was no response. When Rachel missed school on Tuesday, she worried even more. Rachel had missed more days that school year than all previous years combined, but no one would say she was being chronically or excessively absent. It was a well-known fact that Rachel Berry even went to school when she should stay at home and rest. And there was even a time their freshman year when Rachel was so used to getting up and getting herself to school that she showed up on Columbus Day and banged on the doors of the school for a full ten minutes before she realized it wasn’t a school-wide prank, it was a national holiday.

So it just didn’t fit that Rachel would miss Quinn’s birthday party on a Friday night and still not show up to school by the following Tuesday.

Quinn contemplated ditching her last two classes, but she chose to go because she knew Rachel would want to borrow her notes.

She drove to Rachel’s house after school, ditching Cheerios practice (God help her when Sue Sylvester got a hold of her) and rang the doorbell a few times. There was no response, so she called Rachel which went to voicemail and then left a message. She sent Rachel a few texts. She waited a full ten minutes and was exasperated and ready to give up, when the front door opened.

“Hi,” Rachel greeted quietly. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

Quinn stared at her. “I think I should ask you the same thing.”

Rachel gave her a small smile. “I’m just not feeling well.”

Quinn looked at Rachel intently. “Mind if I come in?”

“Uh… okay,” Rachel said, holding the door open.

Quinn stepped inside and took in Rachel’s pajama clad body. Rachel’s face was swollen and she looked like she’d been crying.

“Were you crying?”

Rachel smiled and shook her head. “No,” she said. “I told you, I’ve just been sick. I’m sorry I missed your birthday.”

“Have you gone to the doctor?” Quinn asked, concerned. “You’ve been getting sick a lot.”

“It’s okay,” Rachel said. She smiled, but her eyes were watery. “Come with me,” she said. “I have your present for you.”

“I didn’t…come over for that,” Quinn said. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” Rachel said. “And I know you didn’t come over for that, but follow me anyway. You might as well take them home.”

“What is it?”

Rachel smiled and it was a little more sincere than before “You’ll see. Come on.”

Quinn followed Rachel into the bedroom and sat down on the bed as Rachel held out two wrapped gifts to her.

“Okay, this is more of a gag gift,” Rachel said with a smile, passing her one of the boxes.

Quinn laughed. “Okay,” she said slowly. She unwrapped the gift and stared at it. She laughed again. “Mr. Bacon’s Big Adventure Game?” She laughed even harder. “I seriously think you overestimate my love for bacon.”

Rachel laughed softly. “You take your bacon character through Meatland and the first person to the frying pan wins.” She paused. “Though I have no idea how that would be considered winning.”

Quinn shook her head and eyed Rachel with obvious mirth and warmth. “Maybe because you finally meet your destiny of deliciousness?”

Rachel laughed. “Maybe.”

“Do you want to play?”

Rachel smiled. “Sure,” she said. She presented Quinn the other box. “Okay. So here’s the real present, so to speak.”

“You really didn’t have to,” Quinn protested. “I mean, you got me my bacon board game,” she said with a laugh.

Rachel smiled crookedly. “I know, but I thought you might like this. I told you, the bacon game is more of a gag gift. This I think you might actually like.”

“I like the bacon game,” Quinn said, feeling the need to defend it a little. But Quinn unwrapped the other gift and blinked when she saw it was a Daler-Rowney Pencil Sketching Box Set which came in a heavy wooden box and contained graphic pencils, erasers and charcoal.

“You like art and you like to draw,” Rachel said with a shrug. “I didn’t get you a sketchbook because I wasn’t sure what kind you like.” She reached behind her back and playfully tossed a Sharpie at Quinn. “And that’s so you can continue to draw pornographic pictures of me in the bathroom,” she teased.

Rachel was smiling, but it made Quinn feel awful to have that brought up.

“Thank you for everything,” Quinn said quietly. She stood up, moved in closer and tried to pull Rachel into a hug, and it seemed like Rachel was getting ready to return the hug, but Rachel breathed in sharply and took a few steps back.

“Don’t!” Rachel exclaimed, putting her hands out, almost defensively. “Please, don’t,” Rachel said, sounding very close to _begging_ Quinn to get away from her.

Quinn frowned, wounded and she took a few steps back. “What? What did I do?”

Rachel looked like she was going to cry. Or throw up. “I… I don’t want to get you sick,” she muttered, her eyes dropping to the floor. “I should…bake you a cake or cookies or something,” she said vaguely. “It was your birthday. I’ll…I’ll go bake you a cake. Do you want a cake?” She continued to take a few steps back, putting some distance in between then.

“I ate plenty of cake,” Quinn said, forcing a smile, but she was completely perturbed by Rachel’s demeanor at the moment. “Maybe _I’ll_ make _you_ some chicken soup since you’re the one who isn’t feeling well.” She paused. “Or, you know, vegetable soup.”

Rachel smiled. “I’m fine, really. But I’m really tired. Will you take a raincheck on playing the bacon game?”

“Sure,” Quinn said. “But if you don’t feel better tomorrow, you should really see a doctor. I’ll go with you if you want.”

“I’m fine, Quinn, really,” Rachel said. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Quinn said softly.

Rachel walked her to her car and out of habit, Quinn reached for her to hug her but Rachel pulled away again.

“I’m still sick,” she said. “I don’t want to Typhoid Mary you,” she joked. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

Rachel did not show up at school the next day.

By Thursday, Quinn swore that if Rachel didn’t show up to school, she was going to leave campus, go to Rachel’s house and drag Rachel to the doctor. First of all, she didn’t think Rachel had even seen a doctor despite getting sick so much lately, and secondly, it just wasn’t normal for someone as healthy as Rachel to get sick so much in such a short period of time. And anyway, they were supposed to get a doctor’s note if they missed too many consecutive days of school, so Rachel would need a doctor’s note anyway. Although really, if anyone could get around getting the doctor’s note to excuse her absences from school, it would be Rachel, of the formerly perfect attendance and excellent verbal ability that could make even the most severe truant officer weary. She _wanted_ Rachel to get to the doctor, but Quinn just didn’t trust Rachel to get herself to the doctor.

But Rachel did show up just before the bell rang and she took her seat after flashing Quinn a small smile.

Quinn smiled back and breathed a sigh of relief.

\--

“I’m glad you’re back,” Quinn murmured as she and Rachel walked to their next class.

Rachel smiled and she looked better than when Quinn saw her a couple days ago, though her features were still a little drawn “Me too.”

\--

Even though they had all their classes together, they somehow managed to get separated during the pre-lunch shuffle of going to their lockers. Quinn looked for Rachel during lunch because she’d told her mother about Rachel being sick for a few days and her mother made some vegetable soup and packed it into a Thermos so Quinn could share it with Rachel in anticipation that Rachel actually would show up that day.

She looked around for Rachel, but the brunette wasn’t in the cafeteria. She walked around, swinging the Thermos, despite knowing she probably shouldn’t shake the soup like that. She went into the library but couldn’t find Rachel. She checked the choir room and the assembly hall, but Rachel wasn’t in either location.

She didn’t know why she thought about going to Rachel’s car, she just did. She walked through the parking lot and found the white Mini Cooper. She peered into the backseat and her heart seized when she found Rachel lying there, curled up, arms wrapped around herself. Rachel had her face pressed into the seat and her entire body was wracked by sobs. The sound of Rachel’s crying was faint because the car doors were shut and the windows were rolled up, but it was still audible.

Swallowing hard, Quinn banged on the window. “Rachel!”

Rachel sat up, clearly startled and she stared at Quinn and wiped at her cheeks.

“Open the door!”

Rachel swallowed visibly and opened the car door. “Hi,” she greeted.

“Are you hurt? What’s wrong?”

“I’m okay, I’m just not feeling well.”

“You’re _crying_.”

“Okay,” Rachel said. “I’m feeling _very_ unwell,” she joked.

“That’s not funny. You’re _crying_. Come on, I’ll take you to the doctor. You should have gone a long time ago.”

Rachel shook her head. “No,” she said. “I just…my head hurt and I really didn’t want to be here. I don’t know why I’m being a crybaby. But I’m fine. I’m much better now, partner. I don’t need to see a doctor. I was just being self-indulgent. I’m fine.” She smiled at Quinn. “Let’s go the cafeteria. I’ll buy you lunch.”

“Actually,” Quinn said, holding up the Thermos. “My mom made you some vegetable soup. She was kind of counting on you being here,” she said with a laugh. “So I already have lunch for us.”

Rachel smiled. “That was so sweet of her.”

Quinn’s smile dimmed. “Rachel, let me take you to your doctor. I mean, you wouldn’t be crying in your car if you felt okay. So let’s go.”

Rachel shook her head. “I don’t need to go, Quinn,” she said quietly. “Let’s just go.”

Quinn released a sigh, knowing that Rachel was too stubborn to listen to her. “Okay.Let’s go to the cafeteria and warm it up.”

Rachel smiled. “Okay.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Quinn asked softly, because Rachel didn’t look well.

“I’m fine,” Rachel said quietly. “Really. But thank you for asking.”

“Seriously,” Quinn pressed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Rachel smiled. “I’m fine, partner. You don’t need to keep asking.”

Rachel was smiling and her tone was light, but there was something hard in her expression too, that made Quinn feel the need to retreat. Rachel wasn’t being mean, but somehow, it felt that way to Quinn.

“I was just checking in, partner,” Quinn said, deliberately trying to keep her voice light despite the fact that Rachel was kind of putting her off.

“I know,” Rachel said softly and she reached up to give Quinn a quick hug. “But I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Quinn said quietly.

If Rachel said she was fine, who was she to argue?

\--

Rachel was quiet through lunch, but she at least smiled a little and ate her half of the Thermos of vegetable soup that Judy sent.

She didn’t seem better the next day. Her skin was pallid and she was listless. She just didn’t seem well. She looked like she was a million miles away and as though every breath she took was causing her pain. Quinn would glance over at her once in a while through their classes and catch Rachel wincing, like something was hurting. She _looked_ sick.

“Where’s your dad?” Quinn asked, frustrated that Rachel could be _clearly_ unwell and no one was doing anything about it. She knew one of Rachel’s fathers was in California, but what about the other one? Where the hell was he? How could he let Rachel out of the house looking like she was going to collapse?

Rachel simply shrugged and she just didn’t seem to have the energy to talk about it.

\--

Quinn was worried Rachel would be alone for the weekend and was concerned about what would happen if Rachel got really sick. Rachel had such low energy that she seemed on the verge of collapse. She was just so listless that she was definitely not the girl Quinn had come to know. She knew Rachel wasn’t exactly her reputation, but Rachel was overall sweet-natured, energetic and happy. Rachel didn’t seem happy and she was just so lethargic. She had to be feeling really terribly if she wasn’t even bothering to put on a happy face anymore. After all, Rachel was the kind of person who could hold her head high with a smile as she strutted to the bathroom with her face dripping with Slushie.

On Friday, she took Rachel home with her after school over Rachel’s protests, just to be on the safe side. She followed Rachel home so Rachel could pack a bag, but she insisted on Rachel following her home. She wasn’t going to take any chances. She didn’t want to go to school on Monday and hear the news that Rachel died in her bed from dehydration or something. At least this way she and her mother could keep an eye on Rachel because it was sort of clear to Quinn that no one else was.

“This is highly unnecessary,” Rachel protested.

“Well, you haven’t been getting better and we have an extra room,” Quinn said with a shrug.

“This is excessive,” Rachel grumbled.

“You’re excessive,” Quinn shot back with a tiny smile, in hopes of raising Rachel’s spirits a little.

It worked because Rachel smiled.

“Quinn, I honestly don’t need you to take care of me/”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m going to take care of you?” she joked. “I’m just making sure you don’t die in your bed. You’re going to be taking care of yourself.”

Rachel giggled and swatted at Quinn’s arm. “If I follow you home, I demand you coddle me!” she joked.

Quinn grabbed Rachel’s hand before it could make impact with her arm and laced their fingers together. “This wouldn’t have happened if you’d take better care of yourself,” she said, only half kidding.

Rachel laughed and pulled her hand away from Quinn’s but put her hand on Quinn’s arm. Rachel’s hand felt warm against Quinn’s cool skin and each of them released unintended soft sighs. “You’re such a good friend,” she murmured sincerely. “But I think this is unnecessary. You don’t know how much it means to me that you’re concerned, but honestly, I think I’ll be fine at home. I just need to sleep.”

“Just come home with me,” Quinn said softly, peering into Rachel’s eyes. “I’d feel more comfortable.”

Rachel softened. “I still say this is excessive,” Rachel muttered under her breath.

But Rachel did follow Quinn back to her home.

\--

Rachel spent the entire weekend holed up in Taylor’s old room, huddled underneath the covers and refusing food until Judy practically forced it.

Quinn sat on the bed and put her hand on Rachel’s cheek which felt cold and clammy rather than warm. “Rachel, let us take you to the Emergency Room. You could be really sick.”

“I’m fine,” Rachel said quietly. “I don’t need a doctor.”

“Rach…”

“I’m fine,” Rachel whispered. “I’m just going to get some sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

But Quinn’s mother thought something was wrong and seemed a little perturbed.

“Quinnie, if she’s really that sick, we need to take her the Emergency Room. It’s not _normal_ for a healthy teenage girl to be sick like this for a week. Something could be seriously wrong with her.”

“She’s not going to go, Mom,” Quinn said softly.

But she was _really_ worried because Rachel kept getting sick, and though Rachel was _beautiful_ (God, who would ever think Quinn would ever think that about Rachel _Berry_ ), Rachel was paler and thinner by the month. Quinn knew this because she had a picture of the entire glee club from Sectionals in December, a picture from a photobooth of the two of them from the mall in February, and a candid that pervert Jacob Ben Israel took of them on campus in March. When she compared Rachel’s appearance now against Rachel’s appearance in that picture from Sectionals, the difference was glaring.

Something was clearly _wrong_.

“I’ll give her until Sunday, Quinn. After that, it won’t be up to her.”

\--

Sunday morning Quinn came down the stairs and heard her mother and Rachel laughing softly in the kitchen.

It was a relief to see Rachel seemingly back to normal.

“Hey, partner,” Quinn greeted.

Rachel smiled. “Hey, partner.”

“Feeling better?”

“Absolutely,” Rachel said, giving her one of those dopey toothy grins.

“Good,” Quinn said, smiling back.

Rachel seemed okay, and healthy again, but Quinn happened to glance at Rachel when Rachel thought Quinn and her mother weren’t looking at her, and she was slouched down, shoulders slumped and she looked like she wanted to do anything but smile.

Quinn wasn’t fooled by the show Rachel was putting on, and she was in fact, a little hurt that Rachel was doing it, considering she thought they were past that stage with each other.


	4. Chapter 4

 

  
When Taylor told Rachel she was leaving, it felt like the end of the world.

The first night Taylor told her about it, Rachel cried inconsolably. It was a Thursday, the night before Quinn’s birthday party and Taylor was in Lima to celebrate Quinn’s birthday and to tell her family about her move in-person. She begged Taylor to come over, which Taylor did and she begged and pleaded on her hands and knees for Taylor not to leave the way she used to beg Taylor to _stop_. But Taylor made it clear that it was a done deal.

She stayed in bed for nearly a week, crying her eyes out. She was so despondent, she couldn’t even get herself to school. She just stayed in bed and cried. Some rational part of her mind told her that it was insanity. Some still-rational part of her reminded her that she still found Taylor a little terrifying, despite the fact she was older now and it just hurt less. But then again, ever since she got back in touch with Taylor, she’d had a lot of days when she curled up in bed and cried for no reason. Generally though, she could at least pull herself together enough to get to school, even if she was distracted.

But when Taylor announced she was leaving, Rachel really couldn’t even force herself out of bed. When she finally went back to school, it was only because she knew that staying out any longer would bring unwanted scrutiny. Quinn dragged her home with her at one point and Rachel spent a weekend curled up in Taylor’s childhood bed, completely overwhelmed. Rachel wondered if a teenage version of Taylor lay in that bed and thought about her, the same way that as a child, she’d laid in bed and thought about Taylor.

After a weekend of brooding and crying about Taylor in Taylor’s old bed, Rachel plastered a smile to her face and thanked Quinn and her mother for their hospitality. Quinn remained solicitous for another week after Rachel left her house. It was kind of sweet, and wholly unnecessary even though Rachel had been pretty touched by the gesture.

Taylor told her that it was better this way, and maybe it was. But Rachel just didn’t _understand._

The nightmares came again-- any time she fell asleep, she had nightmares. She pictured Taylor’s enraged visage and she woke up feeling helpless, confused and afraid, always with this ghostly ache making her body feel sore. She’d get up to make herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich but she couldn’t even force it down-- she’d have to throw it away.

She didn’t understand all these feelings that had bubbled up, or anything really, that had happened since the summer when she got reacquainted with Taylor. But that was the thing with Taylor-- there was constant push and pull and there always had been. It made her so confused, she couldn’t _think_ or process through anything. She just got so disoriented and it was like she was over-stimulated because she’d sit down to _think_ it out and she’d end up so confused and lost, that she was actually, physically, red in the face. All she knew was that push and pull.

When she was younger, Taylor was loving and sweet, the most reliable person in her admittedly small world and the best babysitter ever. Glitter was considered the herpes of art project supplies, but Taylor let her use it liberally and always helped her clean up. Taylor watched movies with her, played with her and made her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Taylor was the one she spilled all her secrets to, from the weird way her daddy got sick all the time and got really mean to the way her other daddy made her come with him when it was time to look for daddy. Taylor always comforted her and explained to her that sometimes grownups were just inexplicably mean but that didn’t mean her daddies loved her any less. It’d always made her feel better and when Rachel looked back on it, she knew Taylor was being kind by shielding her from the truth of her father’s addiction and her other father’s enabling, because Taylor _must_ have known. She felt grateful for the way Taylor protected her back then.

When Taylor was like that, so sweet, reliable and protective, Rachel felt the pull. There was no one who made her feel safer or more loved than Taylor when Taylor was smiled at her. She felt the pull so strongly, that she had an instinctual understanding of gravitational forces.

But Taylor also possessed a mean streak, when she said mean things, did mean things and just made Rachel _hurt_ and when Taylor was like that, all Rachel wanted to do was run. She’d even tried a few times, but didn’t make it very far. When Taylor was like that, Rachel felt the push and she wanted to run away and hide, but she’d long learned not to run, that it would always end up with her flat on her back with Taylor’s knees pressed into her chest and Taylor’s hands pressed over Rachel’s nose and mouth until she stopped struggling, stopped running. And it wouldn’t prevent the hurt that would come afterward, in fact, it would make it worse because Taylor would be mad at her for running, so she would be extra rough and she couldn’t even go to the bathroom afterward without it hurting.

After a while, Rachel learned to quell that basic human urge to _flee_ to take flight when she felt unsafe, and she could always sense the danger in Taylor when her babysitter would show up at the house in a clearly rotten mood. Taylor would make nice with one or both of her daddies, but once they were alone, Rachel could always tell when Taylor was in a bad or mad mood and if Taylor started the evening off in a bad or mad mood, Rachel knew to expect that she would ache for a few days at the very least. It was always so terrible because it would _hurt_ so much to use the bathroom and she must have acted sad because her fathers would always foist glasses of water on her which would make her need to use the bathroom when she was trying so hard not to go and it was this continuous, endless _hurt_.

She’d plead with Taylor to stop because it _hurt_ and how could Taylor keep making her hurt when Taylor claimed to love her? It didn’t make any sense, but Taylor never answered and Rachel learned to stop asking because it only seemed to make Taylor angrier and she didn’t want that. Taylor could make it _really_ hurt sometimes. Some days, she woke up the next morning in even greater pain than the night before.

When she was little, she used to wake up from nightmares, screaming, crying and _rambling_ incoherently. Her Dad would comfort her the best he could, get her a glass of water and coax her into letting him turn out the light again. She wasn’t supposed to tell, so she just clung to his hand for a while, took comfort in the fact that Taylor wasn’t there, then felt guilty for thinking that way about her favorite person and told him it was okay, he could go back to bed and she was okay now, too.

Generally, she’d stay awake staring up at the ceiling. She had a few times where she woke up so scared that she’d had accidents where she wet the bed. But it was so humiliating for her to have an accident when she was well-past a permissible age for that sort of thing-- she was five, and then six and _seven_ for God’s sake, that she just changed her sheets herself. Once, she’d wet the bed and her daddy caught her and he was especially sick and mad that day so he made her stand in the corner facing the wall for _hours_ until her legs and shins hurt and it was time for her to get ready for school. He just sat there at the foot of her bed, watching her to make sure. He seemed so mad, she was just glad he didn’t hit her. So she’d learned her lesson.

That didn’t stop the bedwetting-- though it did finally stop when she was eight, she just learned to cover it up. It worked. She didn’t want to be baby who wet her bed-- she was way too old for that and she was so ashamed of herself, she didn’t even tell Taylor about it and she told Taylor everything. She thought maybe Taylor would be mad at her for it, too, like Daddy was and Taylor made her body hurt in a whole different way, but it still hurt nonetheless.

It was so hard for her to reconcile the difference between who Taylor generally was and who Taylor _could_ be. She just didn’t understand and she spent a lot of time brooding about it until her second grade teacher, Mrs. Schultz, totally screwed her over by calling children’s services on her family because in her opinion, a six year old shouldn’t sit on a bench, contemplatively poking it with a stick-- like six year olds don’t have stuff to think about, too.

Thanks to that dummy Mrs. Shultz, Rachel got a social worker at her house, showing up with a cop in tow, which had been utterly intimidating. She answered some strange questions which, in retrospect, were deeply personal. When she told Taylor about the visit, Taylor asked her so many questions, like she wanted Rachel to recite every single word, verbatim. Taylor asked so many questions, and got so mad that Rachel couldn’t remember _exactly_ what she said, that Rachel cried. She had to _swear_ she never said anything about Taylor and she really didn’t, not even when she was asked about anyone hitting her, hurting her feelings or touching her down _there_ or in her butt and Taylor had done all of those things, and not just with her hands either. Rachel knew she was _never_ supposed to talk about that because Taylor warned her about what would happen if she ever did and Rachel didn’t want any of those things to happen.

So she never said anything about Taylor and she never said anything about her Daddy’s odd behavior when he was ‘sick,’ and afterward that lady and the cop left, and one of her fathers gave her about a billion (closer to five, and even that may have become exaggerated by her memory, she just knew it was definitely more than three) glasses of water to drink. Given how upset her fathers seemed by the whole thing, she just learned to keep her feelings to herself, shut her mouth and give the appearance of happiness to avoid _unwanted_ attention, because desired attention still made her delirious with joy. She didn’t want a repeat of what happened with Mrs. Schultz, so she learned that smiles always made other people feel better about her and that sometimes, she had to smile even when she didn’t feel like smiling because it made things easier on her and better for everyone else.

\--

After everything that happened between the two of them and coming together again after a five year separation, Rachel just didn’t understand how Taylor could leave her again. She didn’t understand _anything_ back then-- she didn’t understand how Taylor could kiss her cheeks to comfort her when she cried about how sick her daddy looked and how worried she was about him and then within _minutes_ pin her down and hurt her. And she didn’t understand how Taylor could promise to email her and call her while she was away at college and _never_ do it. There’d been times when Rachel was tempted to approach Quinn to ask if Quinn had heard from Taylor, but Quinn reminded her of a younger, meaner, scarier version of Taylor and she didn’t want to make Quinn mad, too. So she never did.

She didn’t understand anything back then and she didn’t understand anything now and she didn’t _get_ how she could be so confused and lost when just last year during sophomore year, things were coming together and making sense. How could things have spun out of control so quickly? She just couldn’t catch her breath to _think_.

\--

Rachel was sixteen fucking years old and she’d chased a woman out of the country. She did not think this boded well for her.

“This is best for both of us,” Taylor murmured when they talked the night before Taylor left to join her husband in Japan.

“You’re breaking your promise to me,” Rachel said, feeling a little despondent. “You were supposed to make me peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

Taylor chuckled softly. “You can do it yourself now. Actually, you always could. You always just patronized me.”

“But you make it better,” Rachel muttered, a little resentfully. “I like it when you do it.”

“Don’t whine like some baby,” Taylor said. “You aren’t five anymore. You can make your own sandwiches just as good as mine.”

“Sorry,” Rachel whispered, wincing at Taylor’s tone.

“I know. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I know I keep doing that to you lately, but this is really hard on me. I know I’m breaking a promise to you, but you should realize that’s a hard promise to keep.”

“I know,” Rachel said quietly.

“But I’ll always love you, little one. That’s a promise I’m always going to keep. You’re my favorite person in the whole wide world, remember?”

“But you’re going away,” Rachel said dejectedly, though hearing that did make her perk up just a little. The last time Taylor told her that, Rachel had been ten years old.

“It’s better this way.”

“It’s not.”

“It is. One day, when you’re older, you’ll get it.”

Rachel sniffled, determined not to fall apart until she was off the phone. “When will you stop saying that to me? You’ve been saying that to me forever. But I still don’t get it.”

“Just remember your promise to me, okay, little one?” Taylor asked softly. “That’s what’s important.”

“I won’t tell,” Rachel muttered. “I won’t ever tell,” she added, a little resentfully. Sometimes she thought that was all Taylor cared about.

“Good girl,” Taylor murmured. “See why I love you so much, sweetheart?”

“But you’re leaving me.”

“It really is just better this way, baby. But you know how much I love you.”

“Yes,” Rachel sighed. “Okay. I know…it’s just. ..I’m going to miss you.”

“And I’m going to miss you, sweetheart. But you know it’s better this way. “

“Better for you,” Rachel said quietly.

“I’m leaving for _you_ ,” Taylor said softly. “Really. It’ll be easier for both of us.”

“Easier for you.”

“Rach, this is why you and I can’t be together,” Taylor said gently. “I’m much older than you are--”

“You’re not!” Rachel burst out, interrupting her. “I’m sixteen and you only just turned twenty-five and please just _stay_. I graduate next year and--”

“See?” Taylor murmured. “You’re a kid, so you act like a kid. You’re not understanding what I’m giving up for you. I’m leaving the _country_ so you can have a normal life doing things that you _should_ be doing instead of sneaking off to see me. I’m moving away from my job, my friends and family for _you_ and you’re not even appreciating it.”

“But you’re going to be with _him_ ,” Rachel said, her voice small.

“You think I’m leaving for him?” Taylor scoffed. “I don’t want to go to him, but I am because of _you_. I’m leaving for you, because it’s going to be better for you.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” Rachel said quietly. “I didn’t realize I was making it that hard on you.”

“This is better for both of us..”

“Isn’t there another way?” Rachel whispered.

“This is the best way.”

“I just don’t understand,” Rachel said, her eyes squeezing shut in frustration and confusion. “I don’t understand anything. I don’t understand why it’s better.”

“This is why you’re still a kid, honey.”

“That’s so patronizing,” Rachel whispered. “You’re _patronizing_ me.”

“Knowing a few big words isn’t going to change your age, little one. You’ve been talking like an adult as long as I’ve known you, and that made it easier to pretend like you’re an adult, but you aren’t. Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“But I don’t understand! I’m not trying to be difficult although admittedly I am often difficult. I just need you to explain things to me! Why won’t you just explain it to me?”

“Don’t beat a dead horse, okay?” Taylor said. “Talking about this isn’t going to change anything. I’m moving because it’ll be better for both of us, and that’s just the way it is. Do you want one of our last conversations before I leave to be like this?”

“No,” Rachel whispered, dejected. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s the girl I love,” Taylor murmured. “I knew you’d be rational and drop it.”

“Yeah,” Rachel sighed softly.

“Just remember, little one. Even though you’re confused, you have to keep this to yourself. You can’t tell anyone about it, because no one would ever understand what we have. People will think it was really bad.”

“It wasn’t bad,” Rachel refuted quietly.

“I know it wasn’t, but think about it if it wasn’t us, if it was someone else. It would _sound_ really bad, right?”

“Yeah…”

“It was wrong what we did back then, but we can’t change the past, right?”

“No,” Rachel whispered.”And it wasn’t wrong. It…it was okay.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that, sweetheart. Because it really won’t change the past. I mean, unless you invented a time machine or something. I bet if anyone could do it, you could while still performing a billion shows a week on Broadway,” Taylor teased.

Rachel giggled. “Silly. Stop.”

“What we did back then was wrong, and I know it hurt,” Taylor murmured. “But I really did love you and I know you loved me. It was wrong, but we can’t change things, so there’s no need to dwell on anything, right? Because it also won’t change how much we love each other now.”

“Yeah,” Rachel said quietly.

“So you won’t _ever_ tell on me, right?”

Rachel frowned because really, it seemed like Taylor was beating a dead horse with this. Every time they talked, every time they got together, Taylor always brought it up as though Rachel couldn’t be trusted and had to be reminded. Why did Taylor think she needed to be so repetitious? Rachel didn’t understand it, and if Taylor was bringing it up so much because she was afraid that Rachel would tell, then maybe she hadn’t done a good job of assuring Taylor.

“Tay?”

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“Haven’t I done a good job of making you understand I won’t ever tell?” Rachel asked hesitantly. “You keep bringing it up…”

“Well, honey. I’m going to be honest. I’m kind of freaked out that you will. You kind of have a big mouth and you blurt stuff out because you don’t have much of a filter between your brain and your mouth.”

“Not…not about stuff that’s that important to me,” Rachel countered. “I’m not going to tell, honest. I swear to you on Barbra Streisand’s voice.”

She was trying to make Taylor laugh, but Taylor didn’t.

“Not even because you’re mad at me because I’m leaving?”

“You’re leaving for me because it’s better for both of us this way. Because it’ll be easier. You’re going to leave your family, your friends, your job for me. I’m not mad,” Rachel said quietly.

“Do you think you can really handle it on your own, baby? You don’t feel like you need to talk to anyone about all this?”

Rachel shook her head, but then realized that Taylor obviously couldn’t see her since they were on the phone.”No, I have you. I’ll…if I feel the need to blab, I’ll...I’ll call you or email you or something. I’m fine.”

“Good girl,” Taylor crooned. “I’m so proud of you.”

Rachel smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then,” Rachel said. “I feel better now. Thank-you/”

“You’re welcome, baby. Remember though. Shh.”

Rachel nodded again. “Shh.”

Two days later, Taylor left and it was so hard when Taylor went away. Even though talking to Taylor a couple days before Taylor left made Rachel feel a _little_ better, it was still just so hard and she didn’t know what she was going to do. Taylor leaving this time around was devastating-- somehow more devastating than when Taylor left for college.

She was so despondent, she couldn’t even manage to get herself to school.

Taylor left on a Sunday and Rachel took Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday off.

Quinn came over on Wednesday after school and sat down with her on the bed.

“Rachel,” Quinn said quietly. “You _really_ need to go to a doctor.”

Rachel pulled the covers over her head. “I’m fine,” she muttered.

“You’re not fine if you keep getting sick like this. You just missed almost a whole week of school! Now you’re sick again. What if there’s something really wrong?”

“Well, then. It’s probably too late and I’ll drop dead any day now,” Rachel joked.

Quinn pulled the covers off Rachel’s head. “I’m really worried,” Quinn admitted quietly. “I really think something is wrong. Don’t you want to know if something’s wrong?”

“No,” Rachel teased. “If something is wrong, then I’d just hope it’d go away on its own. Like a splinter. Left alone it eventually just becomes a part of the body, you know.”

Quinn put her hand on Rachel’s forehead. Quinn’s fingers felt cool against her skin and Rachel released an involuntary sigh.

“Your forehead is hot,” Quinn remarked quietly. “Please,” she said. “Let me take you to your doctor tomorrow, okay?”

“He’s just going to tell me I’m fine.”

“Then I’ll drop it. But I’d really like a medical opinion and not your arbitrary opinion, because this has gone on since _November_ and it’s April now.”

“I’m fine, Quinn. Don’t worry. I’ll be at school tomorrow.”

“Okay. But I’d still like to take you to your doctor,” she said. She absently stroked her right thumb across one of Rachel’s eyebrows. “Please? I’m really worried about you. You keep missing school.”

“I’m fine, Quinn. Honest. I think I just used today as more of a mental health day.”

Quinn palmed Rachel’s cheek. “I’m not just worried. I’m _scared_. Aren’t you? This isn’t normal for you.”

“Why are you even worried anyway,” Rachel asked darkly, averting her eyes.

“Because we’re friends, partner,” Quinn said quietly. “If you won’t do this for yourself, will you do it for me?”

Rachel looked up at Quinn and took a deep breath. Even though Quinn wasn’t wearing that perfume that Taylor also used, Quinn still smelled kind of smelled like her and looked just like her. And since she’d never been able to refuse Taylor anything even when she didn’t want to, she couldn’t refuse Quinn either.

“Okay,” Rachel whispered.

Quinn smiled, relieved. “Good,” she murmured.

Rachel smiled back because she couldn’t help it.

\--

The next day, Rachel went to school and she thought if she was extra perky, Quinn would forget about it and drop the matter, but she didn’t.

Tenacity was clearly a trait shared by the sisters Fabray because Taylor never stopped or left her alone when Rachel asked her to either.

\--

She sat in her doctor’s office, and Quinn reached for her hand and held it in a gesture that Quinn clearly intended to be comforting, but just made Rachel’s head swirl with confusion. Quinn just reminded her so much of Taylor and she really hadn’t before, at least not as much as Quinn did now.

The doctor took her temperature (slightly elevated), drew some blood (a couple days for the results), asked some questions about sexual partners (which Rachel dodged because clearly he was asking about male partners) and then weighed her. Quinn gasped audibly when the doctor announced that Rachel had lost thirty-five pounds since her last check-up which had been in August.

It made her a little uncomfortable and after a few more questions and tests, her doctor sent Quinn out of the room so they could talk one-on-one.

\--

He asked her a bunch of questions about her sleeping habits, eating habits, school and glee. She was pretty savvy and so she could see where he was driving at and she quickly denied any reasons for being depressed and denied that she felt depressed, even a little bit. She knew where he was going with the eating habits and she emphatically assured him that she did not have an eating disorder.

She smiled, he sighed and then he sent her on her way.

A couple days later, the results came back and she was anemic and a little under-nourished, but she was otherwise okay.

“See?” Rachel demanded with a triumphant grin. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“Somehow I’m not comforted,” Quinn said quietly. “Why weren’t you eating? Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” Rachel assured.

“Are you sure?” Quinn pressed.

Rachel smiled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know,” Quinn said softly. “You tell me. I feel like you’re hiding something from me…is it really just anemia?” she asked, peering at Rachel intently. “You wouldn’t lie to me and tell me you’re fine when you aren’t, right?”

Rachel smiled. “I wouldn’t lie to you about that, no.”

“Okay,” Quinn said quietly.

\--

She tried to put Taylor out of her mind, because she didn’t want to be some hopelessly lovesick teenager in love with someone who was already in love with someone else. She’d been that girl way too many times before and even though Taylor was special to her, Taylor was so far away and had left by _choice_.

And honestly, once she started making herself get out of bed and just go about her daily routines like her morning workout, going to school, going to glee, participating in her extracurriculars, she actually did start to feel better. And she a tiny part of her had to admit, she could breathe a little easier now that Taylor was gone. She still missed Taylor, still felt rejected and sad and still had days when it was hard to force her eyes open in the morning. But at the same time, she did feel a little safer and those nightmares that came back with such ferocity with Taylor’s re-entrance into her life disappeared with Taylor’s exit. She’d just been too immersed in her sadness and ache for Taylor to really appreciate that.

\--

Quinn was extra solicitous with her after that doctor’s visit and always came to school with a packed lunch that was supposed to feed two people. It was kind of annoying because geez, she wasn’t a kid or anything, but at the same time, it felt amazing that someone cared that much about her. It was sort of mindblowing that person was _Quinn_ considering they’d once took a great deal of malicious pleasure in one another’s pain.

\--

She fell asleep one day in Quinn’s bed after eating dinner at Quinn’s house. Quinn’s mother cooked a vegan dinner specifically for her, and so Rachel felt obliged to eat as much as she could, which she kind of suspected was the motive behind it, but how could she be mad about that? Plus, Quinn’s mother was _seriously_ an amazing cook. She suspected that she fell asleep because she ate so much she fell into a food coma.

She awoke with a deep breath and found herself with her cheek pressed into Quinn’s shoulder and Quinn’s arm around her. Quinn was awake and reading a slim paperback with one hand.

She was disoriented for a moment and was ready to call out Taylor’s name, but it’d never felt this… _soft_ with Taylor, not even when Taylor was at her nicest.

“Hi,” Quinn said softly peering down at her, her lips curved into a smile.

Rachel burrowed deeper into Quinn. Quinn smelled like Quinn and not Taylor. She was starting to figure out the difference, but it was still hard when Quinn wore that perfume that Taylor also used. When Quinn wore that, Rachel tried her best not to get too close. But at the moment, Quinn felt warm and soft and Rachel just wanted to go back to sleep.

“Hi,” Rachel murmured. She shut her eyes and sighed. She barely restrained herself from blurting ‘this feels amazing’ and instead smiled lazily and asked, “what’re you reading? Is it for school?”

“Leisure.”

“I thought you didn’t have much time for that because you have so much going on and you’re such an important person,” Rachel teased.

Quinn gently swatted her. “Don’t mock me,” she said, laughing a little. “I’m reading Murakami,” she admitted. “I saw a couple books by him on your bookshelf, and it made me curious”

Rachel smiled against the fabric of Quinn’s shirt. Quinn must have felt it because the blonde giggled.

“That tickles,” Quinn laughed.

“Sorry,” Rachel chuckled. “Which one are you reading?”

“ _The Elephant Vanishes_.”

“I really liked that one,” Rachel said. “Which story in it are you reading?”

“Uh, ‘On Seeing the 100% Perfect Girl One Beautiful April Morning.’”

“One of my favorites. I love that one.”

“I like it, too. Want me to read it to you?”

Rachel giggled. “Why? Do you think I’m illiterate? Or three years old?”

“No, because you have your face in my shirt, you geek,” Quinn teased.

Rachel laughed. “Okay,” she said with a soft sigh. “Read it to me. But don’t start from the beginning. I know the story really well and I don’t want you to have to start over. Read it from where you left off.”

Quinn chuckled. “I’m almost done. I‘m almost at the end.”

“That’s one of the best parts.”

Quinn chuckled again. “Okay,” she murmured, stroking Rachel’s hair because the brunette was nodding off

“That feels good,” Rachel said with a soft sigh. She snuggled into Quinn.

And so Quinn read:

_”They passed each other in the very center of the street. The faintest gleam of their lost memories glimmered for the briefest moment in their hearts. Each felt a rumbling in their chest. And they knew: She is the 100% perfect girl for me. He is the 100% perfect boy for me. But the glow of their memories was far too weak, and their thoughts no longer had the clarity of fourteen years earlier. Without a word, they passed each other, disappearing into the crowd. Forever._

_A sad story, don't you think?”_

“That _is_ sad,” Rachel mumbled.

”Yeah,” Quinn agreed, she continued to stroke Rachel’s hair. “But I liked it.”

“I’m glad,” Rachel said with a sigh. “It would make me sad if you didn’t like something that I liked. It’s already very devastating what little regard you give to Broadway musicals and your lack of appropriate and proper adulation for Ms. Barbra Streisand and Ms. Patty Lupone.”

Quinn laughed. “Even when you’re about to fall asleep, you can still talk like that,” she marveled.

“I’m not going to sleep, I’m just resting my eyes,” Rachel refuted sleepily.

“Go to sleep,” Quinn whispered as she caressed Rachel’s hair. “You can stay the night. My mom can make us breakfast tomorrow and I’ll drive us to school.”

Rachel sighed softly. “Okay,” she mumbled because she didn’t want to move anyway.

When Rachel woke up early the next morning before the sun even rose, as she always did. She had an internal clock that rarely ever failed her. She was curled up facing Quinn and she had her forehead pressed into Quinn’s neck. She had an initial moment of disoriented panic in which she really couldn’t figure out which sister she was with, until she realized she was with Quinn and relaxed a little, until it hit her that she was with _Quinn_ and not Taylor and she wasn’t going to be one of those people who did stuff like this. She breathed in sharply and stumbled back, putting more space in between them.

What the fuck was she _doing_ , doing stuff like this? Quinn and Taylor were sisters and they seemed pretty close. Quinn could tell Taylor stuff like this and then Taylor would be _so_ mad at her. Already as it was, in the couple weeks since Taylor was gone, Taylor wasn’t returning phone calls or emails. She didn’t want to give Taylor more of a reason to ignore her.

She sat up, harshly breathing in and breathing out. God, she didn’t even know what she was doing anymore. She pulled her knees up and lowered her head, shutting her eyes and rocking herself slightly as if that would bring her any comfort. What the hell was she doing?

“Rachel?”

Quinn’s hands were suddenly on her shoulders and when Rachel’s eyes flew open, she looked straight into concerned hazel eyes.

“Rachel, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Quinn was just…too close. She was too close, she looked and smelled too much like Taylor, it was too early in the morning for her to just pretend like everything was okay when everything wasn’t. It was all just too _wrong_ and she didn’t even know what was supposed to be right anymore, all she knew was that she was completely lost and confused and she felt so off-balance. All she knew was that it was _too_ much.

Rachel leaned backward, rocking back on her haunches. “I’m okay,” Rachel muttered. She pulled back even further scrambled to the edge of the bed and stood up. “I’m just a little off-kilter because I’m very attached to my routines, being a creature of habit,” Rachel said, staring at the ground. “I should go home and get on the elliptical for a while before school. Thank you so much for everything and I’m sorry I fell asleep in your bed because I’m told that I’m difficult to share a bed with,” Rachel looked up quickly to give Quinn a small smile and then looked away again. “I’ll see you later.”

Rachel grabbed her stuff and left before Quinn could respond.

\--

Rachel was barely in her car and didn’t even have the chance to put her seatbelt on when she got a text message from Quinn.

 _If you don’t come back inside right now, I want to talk to you before first period. Meet me in front of your locker or just come back in right now_.

Rachel swallowed hard. It was hard not to feel a little threatened by that, but she didn’t feel intimidated by Quinn very much anymore. She bit her lower lip, staring at her phone and contemplating the decision. Normally, she’d want to get it over with and find out what Quinn had to say, but she kind of had a feeling and didn’t want to deal with it yet. So she drove home, got on the elliptical and used routine to put off thinking about it, if only for a little while.

She sent Taylor an email.

_Call me, please. I miss you. I think I’m losing my mind. Please. Please. Call me._

\--

She was at her locker when she felt Quinn’s hand on her shoulder. Rachel turned to her right and smiled at Quinn who gave her a tiny smile back.

“You were sick again this morning, weren’t you?” Quinn asked quietly.

Rachel’s eyes were wide. “What? No.”

Quinn hesitated. “You didn’t look so good this morning.”

“Well, I didn’t wash my face last night and not everyone wakes up in the morning as aesthetically pleasing as you, Quinn.”

Quinn did not look amused. “Something’s wrong and you’re not telling me,” Quinn said quietly. “You looked really sick this morning. What’s _wrong_?” Quinn pressed.

This wasn’t exactly where Rachel thought this conversation was going to go, but truth be told, she really didn’t have much of an idea anyway. “I wasn’t feeling well this morning,” Rachel said, and it wasn’t really a lie, but it wasn’t in the way Quinn thought it was either. “But I’m fine. Really. I just needed to get on the elliptical for a while. It helps me to be active.”

“But--”

“I’m fine, really,” Rachel assured quietly. It was nerve-wracking that Quinn kept asking about this, but at the same time, It also felt kind of nice that someone even cared. She smiled reassuringly at Quinn. “I’m fine,” Rachel repeated. “There’s nothing to worry about, so please stop worrying. It means a lot to me that you even care, but it’s pointless for you to worry about this because I’m _fine_.

Quinn looked at her and smiled wryly. “Just like that, huh? You say that you’re fine, so you’re fine?”

Rachel chuckled. “Exactly like that.”

Quinn still looked a little skeptical. “Okay,” she said finally. “I guess we should go to class.”

Rachel smiled. “Yeah.”

\--

She found herself glancing at Quinn and gazing at the blonde all throughout first period. She bit her lower lip contemplatively and stared down at her desk. What the fuck was the matter with her? Where was this compulsion to look at Quinn at every opportunity coming from? She needed to squash that right away. People didn’t look at their friends every five minutes like that.

She was lost in a haze until the middle of her third period class when she heard two of her classmates snickering that Stephanie Ng was pregnant. Stephanie Ng sat directly in front of her and Rachel sat up a little straighter when she saw the way Stephanie slumped in her seat. Rachel’s brows furrowed and she thought Mr. Johnson would put a stop to it, but he didn’t. They weren’t being yelling or anything, but they were clearly trying to be heard because _everyone_ heard them. It went on for a while and she was about to turn around to tell Jordan and Yvette to shut it, but she heard Quinn speak.

“Shut it,” Quinn hissed at Jordan and Yvette. “Leave her alone.”

Rachel was proud of her friend for standing up on someone else’s behalf, especially because neither of them really knew Stephanie all that well. And as much as she adored her friend, Quinn wasn’t exactly known for standing up for other people.

“Quinn, no talking in class,” Mr. Johnson reprimanded.

Quinn frowned. “But--”

“Quinn, I realize given your experience last year you might be particularly sensitive to Stephanie’s situation, but I told you, no talking in class.”

Rachel glanced at Quinn to see that the color drained from her friend’s face. Rachel’s world turned _purple_ and she felt her ears pound.

“Don’t you _dare_ talk to her like that,” Rachel snapped.

He turned to her. “Rachel, mind your own business.”

“No,” she snarled at him.

She stood up and unleashed a rant that she couldn’t even remember saying, but apparently involved calling Mr. Johnson an upright Puritan hypocritical _pig_ whom Rachel used to see going into the hourly rate motel by the interstate with a woman who was decidedly _not_ his wife when she had a dance class nearby and had to take the bus to-and-from. There was other stuff given the cell phone video footage the other students took, but Rachel really didn’t think that was relevant because what actually mattered was that she let him know how _unconscionable_ it was for a teacher to look the other way from students espousing the same beliefs he held while penalizing another student for defending a fellow student that _he_ should have defended because his personal opinion didn’t matter and he was violating codes of ethics for which she planned to make the school district very aware and probably the PTA, teacher’s union and ACLU while she was at it.

Mr. Johnson got closer and closer to Rachel as she ranted. From the video footage, he kept telling her to stop, to be quiet and sit down, but Rachel kept ranting. She couldn’t even remember a time she ever defied authority like that. He got in her face and told her to be quiet and sit down-- by then he was actually yelling in her face because she was so agitated. It was _frightening_ that she couldn’t remember that. It was frightening because she truly had no explanation for why she couldn’t stop from blurting all that out. It’s not that she would not have spoken up-- she would have. But she wouldn’t have done it in such a disrespectful, combative way. That rant was a little overboard even for her.

He got way too close to her.

“Rachel! Be quiet!” he shouted. He reached for her-- he didn’t even put his hands on her, but he reached for her, and she was tired, so tired of always being the one weaker and overpowered, that people always had to put their hands on her to prove to her that she was younger, shorter, smaller

“Don’t touch me!” Rachel shouted. “Don’t you dare put your hands on me!”

Mr. Johnson looked bewildered and he reached out with _both_ hands like he was going to steady her.

“Rachel!”

“Don’t touch me, you pervert!”

And still he didn’t back away.

“Get away from me!”

“Get away from her!” Quinn shouted, after seeing how agitated Rachel was becoming. She’d been too shocked at the display to move, and she thought Rachel would calm down and it would be over, but Rachel just kept getting more agitated and she was clearly not calming down any time soon. Quinn got out of her seat and climbed over her desk to get closer to Rachel and Mr. Johnson. She climbed over another desk in the next row to get to Rachel. “Get away from her! You _heard_ her! Don’t touch her!” she shouted, getting in between Mr. Johnson and Rachel. She reached behind her back and groped for Rachel’s hands and squeezed tight.

“Quinn, get back to your seat.”

“No! _You_ go back to _your_ seat. Get away from her!”

The teacher looked freaked out because he was clearly overwhelmed and he took a few steps back and sent them both to Figgins.

Quinn was completely disturbed as she and Rachel walked to Figgins’s office, but Rachel seemed annoyingly nonchalant as though she weren’t screaming at a teacher just a few minutes before.

“You completely freaked out,” Quinn said quietly. “What happened?”

Rachel shrugged. “I merely needed a platform in which to remind him that his duty is to educate, not pontificate.”

“Not about that, he deserved that. I meant about him…”

Rachel crossed her arms. “Are you saying he had the right to put his hands on me? Because he was going to, Quinn. He would not have come in such proximity if his intent weren’t to put his hands on me.”

“I know he doesn’t have the right to do that,” Quinn said. “But…” she trailed off. “Never mind,” she said quietly, although she thought that Rachel’s reaction had been over-the-top, and not in her usual drama queen sort of way.

This had been wholly different-- Rachel had looked angry and scared and she’d been clearly out of control. The girl that unleashed that rant in that classroom wasn’t Rachel. It’d been sort of hilarious at first-- Rachel putting a teacher in his place out of a sense of justice or whatever, because that was _classic_ Rachel But the way Rachel got so _personal_ and rude about it-- bringing up that motel by the highway and shouting at him not to touch her-- that wasn’t Rachel. That was someone Quinn had no experience with whatsoever prior to this day. She decided the better option was probably to just drop it.

“Thank you for defending me,” Quinn said quietly,

Rachel smiled. “Well, of course. Thank you for defending _me_.”

Quinn smiled back. “Of course.”

\--

The incident was chalked up to one of Rachel’s diva antics and both Rachel and Quinn got detention for two weeks.

Rachel was okay with it. It was still scary to her that she could blank out like that and so she would rather people think she was some over-the-top diva than some out-of-control freak. She was used to people snickering at her, and she’d rather they snicker at her because they thought she was overdramatic than stare at her because they were freaked out by her freak-out.

She didn’t want to admit that she’d completely lost control of her mouth, that she couldn’t even remember what the hell she said or why she couldn’t drop it even when Mr. Johnson repeatedly told her to. She was kind of a barracuda and she occasionally did things that were against her own self-interest, but she could _usually_ drop a matter before it escalated to this point. Two weeks of detention and a lecture didn’t seem so bad in comparison to not being able to remember what the fuck happened.

\--

At lunch, Rachel poked at her mushroom casserole with her fork in distaste and flung her fork down in disgust. She didn’t know why she continued to think the school would provide vegan alternatives that she wouldn’t have to choke down with a large glass of water when it was clear they just didn’t care. But hope sprang eternal.

“You’re not going to eat it?” Quinn asked.

“It looks disgusting. I’m sure it tastes disgusting, too.”

“Why don’t you just try it, you might like it,” Quinn said quietly. “Or I can get you something…”

“It looks like my cat’s litterbox after I’ve forgotten to clean it for a while,” Brittany commented.

Santana, Quinn and Rachel looked at her in mute disgust, completely grossed out.

“Thank you, Brittany, for validating my opinion in the inedible appearance of this allegedly vegan alternative to today’s mystery meat entrée.”

Brittany held up a forkful of said mystery meat entrée, held it close to her nose and sniffed it contemplatively. “It smells like horses.”

Quinn heaved a deep sigh and threw down the forkful of the mystery meat entrée she was going to consume. She glared at Brittany.

Santana set down her fork as well, a look of utter resentment toward the offending food item on her face. But she smiled when she looked at Brittany and nudged Brittany’s foot with her own. “I feel like eating fries,” she declared. “If we leave now, we can still get back for most of fourth period.”

Brittany smiled. “Okay.”

Santana stood up first and Brittany stood as well. Santana cocked her eyebrow. “Are you two juvenile delinquents coming, or did you get enough detention for one day?”

“We’re coming,” Quinn grumbled, standing up and reaching out to pull Rachel to her feet. “We’re already in enough trouble today, so whatever.”

They tucked their trays away and then left campus, piling into Brittany’s car, which was a mistake because the mere fact that Brittany was a licensed driver was frightening, but her actual lack of driving ability could render heart attacks. Why would the state of Ohio give this girl a license?

Santana was unruffled by the experience which closely resembled the old video game, Frogger. Once they got to Dahlia’s Diner, she got out of the car and turned to cock an eyebrow at Quinn and Rachel who were still huddled in the backseat, clutching each other’s hands.

“What are you two, geriatric?” Santana called out impatiently. “We don’t have all day, so _hurry_ up.”

Rachel released a breath. “You’re still alive, partner,” she assured Quinn.

Quinn laughed softly. “You’re still alive, too.”

They got out of the car, still gripping hands.

“It’s about time,” Santana muttered.

The four girls walked into the diner, took a booth and ordered.

\--  
  
“Hey, Rachel. Did you know there’s already a techno remix of your rant at Johnson up on YouTube?” Santana asked, after checking her phone.

Rachel was unimpressed, though she was a little embarrassed. “My understanding is that there are a variety of apps and computer programs that do all the work for you.”

Santana just laughed.

\--

“Stop swiping my sweet potato fries,” Rachel complained, swatting at Quinn’s hand. “If you wanted them so much, you should have ordered them yourself rather than sticking to routine and allowing me to be the guinea pig.”

“But I like yours better,” Quinn whined. She moved to grab another fry.

“Too bad,” Rachel said, laughing as she gently slapped at Quinn’s hands. “I would be happy to purchase a side order for you.”

“But I want yours because they’re right here,” Quinn said with a grin. “Give me one!” she exclaimed, opening her mouth wide and pushing her head closer to Rachel’s.

Rachel giggled and stuffed four into Quinn’s mouth.

Quinn laughed and bit down and broke off the remaining parts that didn’t fit in her mouth. She put them on her plate, chewed, swallowed and wiped at her mouth. She laughed. “My mouth isn’t as big as yours, you geek!”

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “How do you know? Have we actually compared the volume?”

“Anyone can see your mouth is much bigger than mine! Both literally and metaphorically.”

“Have you looked in the mirror at your cavernous mouth?” Rachel demanded. “Because it is, in fact, cavernous and--”

“There’s a motel nearby that charges hourly,” Santana interjected.

“It’s actually really nice,” Brittany added, smiling at Santana.

“Not right now, Brit,” Santana drawled with a grin after she turned her attention to Brittany for a moment. She turned back again to Quinn and Rachel. “You guys should just fuck and get it over with,” she said, rolling her eyes at them.

Rachel was stricken. She was not going to be one of those people who cut a swath through a sibling set. That was gross and straight out of some lurid movie-of-the-week. Her name was going to be on the lights of Broadway and the marquees of movie theatres. She was not going to be the basis of some lurid Lifetime movie

“I…” Rachel had no way to respond to that. Her cheeks turned bright pink. “I would never do that,” she said quietly, staring down at her plate and biting her lower lip. She could admit to being a lot of things-- high-maintenance, overdramatic, high-strung. But she wasn’t the kind of person that would sleep with one person and then sleep with that person’s little sister. She wouldn’t do that to Taylor and she wouldn’t do that to Quinn. She thought of Taylor and she just missed her all over again. She lost her appetite and pushed her plate toward Quinn, turning it so that the sweet potato fries faced Quinn. “I’m sorry I was difficult. I was just kidding. I’m not actually that _greedy_ ” She smiled at Quinn. “Help yourself.”

Quinn looked at her quizzically. “I know you were kidding.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to Rachel’s reaction. Quinn wasn’t insulted by it, but she was kind of hurt by it. But more than that, she was just sort of confused. Rachel’s response really didn’t make sense to her.

“Why are you being sad when we were just having fun?” Brittany asked Rachel bluntly.

Rachel forced a smile. “I’m not sad.”

“She’s just uptight,” Quinn said.

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “ _I’m_ uptight?”

“Shut up,” Quinn said. “I am not uptight.”

“I never said you were. I was merely questioning if you thought I was uptight. I was asking for clarification and I did not anticipate you would misconstrue my innocent need for elucidation as some insinuation of disparagement of your character. Although I do not consider being ‘uptight’ as being particularly disparaging since you are somewhat uptight.”

Brittany, Santana and Quinn stared at her for a moment.

“I like lemonade,” Brittany offered.

Quinn laughed softly and shook her head. “I’m not uptight, you’re uptight,” she refuted, but she reached under the table and gently squeezed Rachel’s hand.

“Seriously, just fuck and get it over with,” Santana said.

Even Rachel’s ears turned red.

\--

After detention that day, Rachel followed Quinn back to her house. They were watching a movie in Quinn’s room when Rachel’s phone rang.

Taylor.

She grabbed her phone and was about to push ‘Answer’ when she paused. She stared at it for a while, just letting it ring in her hands.

“Are you going to get that?”

Rachel hit ‘Ignore.’

“No,” Rachel said. “It’s not important.”

She didn’t call back and when Taylor sent her a terse email asking _’what the fuck is up? Is everything okay?_ Rachel chose not to respond to that either.

Now that Taylor was gone, Rachel could remember how good her life had been before Taylor came back into it. Her life had never been _great_ , but her life was getting better before Taylor came back into it. Taylor was only back in her life for about nine months, but it completely twisted her around. Now she had some time to think, and she could see that Taylor kind of had a point, because it was nice to just worry about her grades or snagging a glee solo or what movie to watch with Quinn than it was to worry about what she was doing wrong in her relationship with Taylor and getting caught by Taylor’s husband or having to deal with Taylor’s mercurial moods.

As much as she missed Taylor, and she missed Taylor desperately, she could kind of see that life was a little easier without Taylor. She didn’t think it was better, but it was definitely a _little_ easier and right now, she needed to take what she could get.


	5. Chapter 5

 

  
Since Taylor moved to Japan, Quinn had emailed with Taylor regularly-- even more so than when Taylor was living a few hours away. They emailed almost every other day. Quinn supposed that was the way many relationships with siblings was like, but she didn’t have another sibling to compare it to--she only had Taylor.

Generally, they just updated each other on their lives and Taylor attached pictures of all the sights she was seeing for the first time and Quinn swore one day, she’d visit to see those things for herself. Everything looked amazing and Quinn envied her big sister for everything she was and everything she was doing.

Older sisters tended to be the object of envy and admiration of their younger sisters, especially when the age difference was fairly vast-- and eight years _was_ fairly vast. Taylor was always such a good sister to her and Taylor’s life always seemed so glamorous, even when she was living in Lima.

Taylor was suspiciously quiet about the relationship with her husband and how they were doing other than that they were just “okay.” But she gave details on everything she was seeing, hearing, smelling and doing. Taylor seemed deliriously happy and Quinn lived vicariously through those emails and devoured each one that came through, even when all it stated was something like, “haha check out the sumo mascot at Ryogoku Kokugikan in Tokoyo” with a picture of some yellow animal in sumo attire attached.

One day, she’d get out of Lima for good and she’d have the kind of life she envied in others who had lives that were about more than high school or college football, more than just joining the family business after reaching a certain age or keeping up with certain appearances. Lima wasn’t a _small_ town necessarily. It was big enough to have multiple Dairy Queens, because if Lima were smaller, it wouldn’t be able to sustain even _one_ Dairy Queen like many of their surrounding smaller towns. Still, sometimes the town felt so small, she ached and chafed under its oppressiveness and she made daily promises and prayers that she would leave. She would leave and not come back to live in Lima with metaphorical tail between legs with her failures, both large and small, prickling at her. She was not someone who hated Lima so much that she vowed to leave and never step a toe back, no matter _what_ she had to do (that was Rachel), but she struggled enough in Lima, felt lonely and isolated enough that she was determined to leave and not come back to live.

One day, not too long after Taylor left for Japan, her sister sent an email that detailed her day and out of the blue asked about Rachel.

_By the way, how’s Rachel? Tell her I say hey, okay?_

It was casual, but really seemed to come out of nowhere.

She was sitting in a stuffy classroom with Rachel serving out day nine of their ten day sentence to detention when she received the email on her phone. She and Rachel were sitting in two different rows, but sitting next to each other. She first glanced at Mr. Tobin to make sure he hadn’t spotted her looking at her phone, because she really wasn’t allowed to do that. He was grading papers or something, which meant she’d gotten away with it. She glanced at Rachel who was actually doing _homework_. Quinn rolled her eyes and suppressed a chuckle. She shot her foot out and lightly kicked Rachel’s chair.

Rachel turned to look at her and smiled. She made a face, scrunching up her nose and sticking her tongue out.

Quinn let out a tiny amused snort and then covered her mouth. She glanced around to see if anyone heard, but no one had. She stuck her tongue back at Rachel who smiled.

‘What’s up?’ Rachel mouthed.

Quinn shook her head and smiled. ‘Nothing,’ she mouthed.

Rachel released a tiny exasperated sigh, rolled her eyes and smiled wryly. She turned her attention back to her homework.

She seemed fine.

At least, _now_ she did. There’d been a rough patch recently when Quinn was genuinely worried and really put off by the fact that Rachel seemed so nonchalant about how much school she was missing due to illness. But in the past few weeks, Rachel seemed so much better. It was kind of a relief.

Quinn looked up to see if Mr. Tobin was looking at her-- he was not and began typing. She wanted to keep it short because she was sending it from her iPhone and she tended to make typos if she wrote more than a few lines.

_Hey, Tay._

_Why don’t you buy me a ticket to see you? Or next time you come home, put me in your suitcase. Things are okay here. Regionals for glee are soon and I think we have a good shot. Regionals are soon, too, for cheer, but you know with Sylvester, that’s a lock. Everything’s the same here. Mom is good. I’m good. I’m sitting with Rachel in detention. She’s fine. I’ll tell her you say hey and I’ll give her your email address. I’m sure she’d like to talk to you. -Q._

Quinn sent the email and marveled at how an entire month had passed since her sister left. Her life didn’t really change-- it wasn’t as though she and Taylor saw that much of each other, and they’d always talked, texted and emailed pretty regularly, so it wasn’t _that_ different, but every once in a while, she thought ‘my sister lives in _Japan_ now,’ and it was just sort of hard to believe.

Taylor only left a little over a month ago, so the memories were still fresh, but things were particularly vivid for Quinn because it’d happened right around her seventeenth birthday and she’d been _really_ worried about Rachel. She still couldn’t get over how Rachel lost more than _thirty_ pounds in a relatively short period of time, especially because Rachel never needed to lose the weight.

But Rachel seemed back to normal-- she’d seemed pretty happy for the past month or so and Quinn was relieved because she’d felt like she was scrambling to make Rachel feel better, but still failed epically in that endeavor. Now that things were normal again, it felt a little easier to breathe.

In fact, overall, there seemed to be a return to normalcy-- she was back as captain of the Cheerios, she was friends with Brittany and Santana again and people seemed to be a little afraid of her again. She really couldn’t complain.

\--

Once they were released from detention, they joined Santana and Brittany at Steinhart Deli for an early dinner.

“Hey, it’s the delinquents, finally sprung from the pokey,” Santana drawled.

Rachel frowned. “Santana, your delinquent tendencies far outweigh mine. You have a well-documented history of notable disregard for rules and regulations which bespeaks a predilection on your part toward--”

“Who’s in detention, Berry?” Santana interrupted. “You, not me.”

“That was due to one notable exception on my part in which I disregarded school authority. You, on the other hand--”

“I’m just better at getting away with it,” Santana said smugly. “Don’t get on a moral high horse, you’re just as bad as I am.”

“Santana, you set fire to a trashcan,” Quinn interrupted wryly. “Rachel has never committed arson.”

Santana was outraged. “I told you! That was an accident. I was drunk and threw a cigarette in the trash can because I thought I put it out.”

Brittany smiled at the memory. “The fire was really pretty,” she remarked.

Santana let out a low throaty chuckle and smiled affectionately at Brittany. She rested her head on Brittany’s shoulder. “Well, you sent some dwarf to a crackhouse,” Santana said to Rachel. “Which means you knew where one was, which means you’re not that innocent. I mean, how did you know that anyway?”

Quinn winced because she knew the reason Rachel was aware of the location of a crackhouse was because her father was an addict and it was still a sore subject because Rachel’s father refused to come back from California and Quinn knew Rachel missed him. If he was using, then Quinn thought it was better he was away from Rachel, but it was clear Rachel wanted him to come home.

Rachel smiled at Santana, though Quinn recognized that it was a little stilted. “I’m a very worldly woman, Santana.”

Santana snorted derisively. “It’s _Lima_.”

Rachel grinned. “Which is a part of the world.”

Santana flung her straw’s wrapper at Rachel and rolled her eyes. “Did you see what Lisette Miller was wearing today?”

“It looked like the Crayola factory has bulimia,” Brittany said.

Santana beamed at Brittany and laughed.

“I thought she looked nice,” Rachel defended.

“ _You_ would,” Santana said.

Rachel looked down at her ensemble which was composed of neutral colors that day. “I admit I have a lot of colorful clothing items,” she conceded. “But I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

Quinn did _not_ want to admit that some of Rachel’s fashion choices made her wince. She loved Rachel dearly, but the girl had an eye for fashion that was somewhere between the Children’s Place and the wardrobe department for the _Golden Girls_ with a pit stop in _Little House on the Prairie_. Rachel was just so inconsistent when it came to fashion-- sometimes, like today, for instance, everything just _worked_. And then there were days when Rachel wore something that Quinn just wanted to repress.

“Well,” Quinn said, trying to placate Rachel who was now pouting because of Santana. “At least you’re cute even if your outfits are sometimes a little…” Quinn hesitated and tried to be as diplomatic as possible. “Unusual.”

Rachel looked at her suspiciously, like she was trying to ascertain if Quinn was mocking her or not, but finally smiled. “Thank-you, Quinn,” she said. She glared at Santana. “And where do you get off critiquing my ensembles? 98.99% of the time you’re in a Cheerios uniform. That shows a glaring lack of originality.”

Quinn laughed so hard she almost fell out of the booth.

\--

“So your dad’s not around?” Quinn asked as she followed Rachel to the living room where they sprawled out to watch a movie and do their homework. The living room had more space, but Rachel tended only to utilize it when she was absolutely sure neither of her fathers were going to be home soon. With one of her fathers in California, it was really Rachel’s dad, Eddie, that they had to consider.

“He’s at a medical conference in LA,” Rachel explained. She paused and looked a little excited. “I think he’s going to bring Daddy home,” she said with a grin. “I heard Dad talking to Daddy a few days ago before he left.”

She wanted to tell Rachel not to get optimistic about it, that if Rachel’s father wanted to come home, he would have been home months ago when his 30 day detox was over, but she didn’t want to take out her own Daddy issues on Rachel. And really, if Rachel wanted to be optimistic about that, then why shouldn’t she be?

“Well,” Quinn murmured. “I really hope he comes home soon. I bet he will this time,” she said, because sometimes, it was more important that Rachel heard what she _wanted_ to hear than the truth. And anyway, Quinn knew Rachel wasn’t delusional and probably already knew her father wasn’t going to leave California just because his husband flew out to LA for a medical conference, but Rachel wanted to hold onto that frail hope, too.

Rachel gave her a sunny smile. “Thank you, Quinn.”

She lifted her leg up so that it rested on the couch cushion and stuck her foot out to playfully poke Quinn in the knee with her big toe.

Quinn smacked the top of Rachel’s foot. “Get your dirty foot away from me,” she said with a laugh.

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “But you’re touching my foot which you claim is so dirty,” she said, wiggling her foot and bringing it up so that it hovered near Quinn’s face.

Quinn shrieked and slapped at Rachel’s foot. “Ew!” she squealed with a laugh. “Get your foot away from me!”

Rachel waved it around just to taunt Quinn a little longer and then laughed and set her foot down on the ground. “I’ll have you know that my foot is vastly superior to other feet and you should therefore have no problem touching it.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. Why did she like this girl again? There were still times when Rachel made Quinn want to set herself on fire but Quinn decided that the occasional desire for self-immolation was worth having a friend she genuinely trusted.

“Get those icicles away from me,” Quinn said fondly.

Rachel laughed and leaned in so that she was half-sprawled on Quinn. She pressed an impetuous kiss to Quinn’s cheek rested her head on Quinn’s shoulder. Quinn reached for Rachel’s hand and their fingers laced together.

“I guess we’re channeling Brit and Santana,” Rachel chuckled.

“I guess we are,” Quinn laughed.

It only lasted for a few moments-- perhaps less than a minute before Rachel pulled away just as impulsively as she’d drawn near. “I’m going to get some juice,” she declared, rising to her feet. “Do you want anything?”

“I’ll go with you,” Quinn offered, straightening up.

Rachel smiled and reached out again to poke Quinn’s knee with her big toe. “You’re my guest,” she said with a grin. “Your wish is my command,” she joked. “What would you like?”

“How about a martini, shaken not stirred,” Quinn joked.

Rachel chuckled. “I don’t think you’d like a dirty martini, Ms. Bond,” she said wryly. “Although I do make a killer martini.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Why do _you_ know how to make a martini?”

Rachel gave her a lopsided grin. “Daddy has…a bit of a drug problem and Dad self-medicates with alcohol.” She shrugged. “So I learned how to be a bartender.” She smiled. “If I had a better grasp of chemistry, perhaps I could manufacture methamphetamine and have my own reality show,” she joked.

“Is that what your dad is into?” Quinn asked quietly. She’d just assumed it was cocaine.

Rachel’s smile slipped slightly. “He’s into a lot of things,” she said quietly.

Quinn gave Rachel a small smile. “It’s no fun being the family bartender,” she commented quietly.

Back when her parents were still together, she was frequently the bartender for her parents when they got too sloppy to mix their own, but were still conscious enough to demand them. Now, she still occasionally stepped into her old familiar role as bartender for her mother.

Rachel smiled sympathetically and bent down to rub Quinn’s knee comfortingly. “No, it’s not,” she acknowledged quietly. “Now,” she said, straightening her back and smiling cheerfully. “Your wish is still my command. What can I get you?”

Quinn smiled. “Bring me some juice, too.”

Rachel smiled. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

Rachel retuned a few minutes later and passed Quinn a glass of cold orange juice. “Here, partner,” she said as she reclaimed her sat on the couch next to Quinn.

Quinn took it gratefully. “Thanks,” she said. She took a sip and then glanced at the clear liquid in Rachel’s cup. “Drinking vodka straight?” she teased.

Rachel laughed softly. “It’s just water.”

“I thought you wanted juice?”

Rachel shrugged. “I changed my mind, I felt like drinking water instead,” she smiled and lightly slapped her hand down on Quinn’s thigh. “Is that allowed?” she asked, rolling her eyes.

Quinn used her foot to gently slap Rachel’s knee. “Not without my permission,” she joked.

Rachel laughed. “So, will you allow it?”

Quinn pretended to think. “I guess just this one time.”

“Maybe I should start calling you boss instead of partner,” Rachel said, “considering your stance on my autonomy and my right for self-determination.

Quinn made a face and gave Rachel a look that was a mixture of exasperation and affection. She lightly kicked Rachel’s foot. “Hey, by the way, Taylor says hey.”

Rachel seemed to pause and the look on her face was way too deliberately casual, but Quinn didn’t think much of it.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. She emailed me and asked me about you. She asked how you were doing. I told her you were okay and I told her I’d give you her email address.”

Again, Rachel paused. “Well, I--“ she trailed off. “Oh, okay,” she said. “Sure.”

Quinn looked at her intently. “What, do you already have it?”

“No,” Rachel said quickly. “And I’d love to reacquaint myself with Taylor. May I have the email address?” she asked, becoming a little too polite.  
  
Quinn looked at Rachel, bewildered. “You’re being weird,” she said bluntly. “Why are you being weird?”

Rachel laughed. “Aren’t you the one who constantly reminds me how weird I am?”

Quinn smiled fondly. “Well, you are.”

Rachel chuckled. “Are you and Taylor close?” she asked, gazing at Quinn.

Quinn thought about it. “Not really. Kind of. I don’t know,” she admitted. “She’s my sister and I used to think she was the best growing up.”

Rachel smiled. “She was good to you?” she asked softly.

“Yeah,” Quinn said. “I mean, we didn’t hang out much. She spent more time at your house than our house, but she’d take me to do stuff and let me hang out with her sometimes. Our parents made her babysit, so we spent a lot of time together that we probably wouldn’t have if she’d had the choice.”

“You guys do have a pretty big age difference.”

“Yeah.”

“So no big fights between the two of you?” Rachel asked with a grin. “No sibling rivalry? She never chased you around the house, got on top of you and threatened to spit in your eye if you didn’t listen to her?” she teased.

Quinn made a face. “Ewww. Yuck. God, what do you think sisters do? Your parents should have given you a sister or a brother.”

Rachel laughed. “I always wanted an older brother or an older sister,” she admitted. “It’s kind of why I loved Taylor so much.”

Quinn laughed, too. “Well, _your_ hypothetical brother or sister would have to be older, because a little brother or little sister would never survive with you. You’d kick it for hogging all the attention.”

Rachel grinned self-deprecatingly. “It kills me to admit that you’re kind of right.”

“Of course I’m right, why would I say something I thought was wrong?” Quinn teased.

Rachel smiled. “So Taylor was a good big sister, huh?”

“Well, yeah, I guess so,” Quinn said. “I don’t have other sisters to compare her to, but she seemed like your standard older sister. I mean, she wasn’t taking me by the hand around town and letting me hang out with her and all her friends or anything, but she wasn’t beating the crap out of me and ignoring me either.”

“Oh,” Rachel said softly.

“I mean…I think growing up in our house was harder for her than it was for me. Our dad was always pretty good to me up until he kicked me out of the house,” Quinn said bitterly. That sting of rejection was something she didn’t think she’d ever get over. “But he’s kind of harsh and he was pretty harsh with Taylor, so it kind of made it easier for me and my mom.”

“Your mom never stepped in for her?”

Quinn smiled wryly. “My mom’s not the stepping in type.”

“Oh,” Rachel said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s better now though,” Quinn said. “My mom, I mean. Now that she and my father are divorcing, she’s gotten a lot better.”

Rachel smiled. “Good,” she said. “Because you deserve to have a mom who would step in on your behalf. You didn’t deserve that from your dad and I’m sorry he disappointed you like that.”

“Well,” Quinn sighed. “If we’re being honest, _I_ disappointed _him_.”

Rachel shrugged. “Unintended teenage pregnancy is never ideal, but I think it’s inexcusable for your dad to do that to you and of your mom for not protecting you.”

“Well,” Quinn shrugged. “It’s what I have. I can’t change it. I mean, I wish it were different, especially with me and my dad, but what’s the point in wishing for something? He’s not going to change and he doesn’t want to see me. He won’t call me back and I’ve sent him a ton of emails he won’t respond to.” She laughed bitterly. “I guess his new girlfriend and her kid are just more important to him.”

“This will sound hopelessly cliché,” Rachel said quietly, reaching for Quinn’s hands and clasping them between her own. “But it’s his loss. _He’s_ the one losing something, not you.”

She gently squeezed Quinn’s hands and then pulled them away. She held her sleeve toward Quinn’s face and the blonde rolled her eyes and wiped her eyes on Rachel’s sleeves, a little embarrassed that she was getting weepy and cursing the fact she was wearing a tanktop and therefore had no sleeves.

“I miss him,” Quinn whispered. She didn’t want to miss her father when he so clearly wanted nothing to do with her. But she _missed_ him. She’d worshipped him at one point in her life.

“I know,” Rachel said quietly. “And that’s normal. But it’s really his loss and I always thought so even when I not so secretly loathed you.”

Quinn laughed and used Rachel’s sleeve to wipe at her eyes again. She couldn’t help but smile when she heard Rachel laugh softly because of it. Rachel ruffled her hair and Quinn lightly smacked at Rachel’s hands.

“The feeling was mutual, partner.”

“I know,” Rachel said dryly. “And if I, of all people, feel and have always felt that it was his loss and not yours, then it must be true because while it’s obvious why I’d feel that way now given our friendship, there was truly no reason for me to have felt that way prior to us becoming friends.”

Quinn smiled. “You’re _seriously_ incapable of taking like a normal person, aren’t you?”

Rachel laughed and smacked Quinn’s thigh. “You knew this before we became friends, therefore you cannot say you were unaware and that I misled you.”

“I know,” Quinn grumbled. “But I just thought you spoke like that because you were trying to kiss some teacher’s ass or something, not because this is how you really speak.”

Rachel laughed. “That’s just how I roll, motherfucker,” she said drolly.

Quinn stared at her for a moment, stunned. She burst into laughter. “What can I do so you never say that again? Because you did not pull that off at all.”

Rachel pouted. “Really?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“ _Really_?”

“NO!”Quinn exclaimed, erupting into giggles.

Rachel laughed. “So anyway,” she said softly. “I just think the loss is greater to your father than it is to you, that’s all,” she said quietly.

“Thanks,” Quinn said quietly.

“So Taylor kind of watched over you?” Rachel murmured.

“Yeah, she was great about that,” Quinn said honestly. “If my dad was angry, she took all of his focus. If my mom was angry, she took all of her focus. Like, to this day, neither of my parents ever hit me or spanked me, but Tay was.”

“Oh,” Rachel whispered.

“I mean, even after she left, our parents were always hounding her about stuff at college that they never yelled at me for anything. I got away with _so_ much,” Quinn recalled.

She kind of looked back on those days with some nostalgia. Her family was the kind of family to ignore anything really negative, like infidelity and alcoholism, but her parents were quick to point the failings of their children, and the child they focused on was Taylor. As long as Quinn made good grades and stayed on top of things at home and at school, then she was pretty much above reproach. Of course, when she faltered, she’d faltered pretty epically and all of her suspicions about her supportive parents were confirmed-- they would only support her when it was easy for them. Even now when things were better with her mother, Quinn really wasn’t sure if she could count on her mother to support her through something difficult. She really didn’t think so.

Rachel laughed. “Yeah? And she really never beat you up?” she teased. “I mean, the pecking order says she should have at least taken some of it out on you if your parents were taking it out on her.”

Quinn shook her head. “No,” she said honestly. “She was always pretty good to me. I really couldn’t have asked for a better sister in that respect.”

Rachel ducked her head and then peeked up at Quinn through her eyelashes. She smiled. “I’m glad,” she said sincerely. “I’m glad she was good to you and that you had her. I bet you kind of wish she were still around here, huh?” she asked softly.

“Sometimes,” Quinn admitted. “I’m older now, so we can do more stuff together. It was a lot of fun when I visited her back in December.”

Rachel smiled. “She’ll come back. I mean, not here to Lima, but she won’t be in Japan forever.” She rubbed Quinn’s shoulder comfortingly. “I bet she misses you, too.”

Quinn smiled back. “Yeah.”

They lapsed into silence after that.

\--

 

They finished their homework whilst going through two movies on the Lifetime Movie Network.

Quinn picked up the phone to look at the time. It was getting a little late, at least, to be out on a school night. She sighed, stood up and stretched. “I should go.”

“Okay,” Rachel said. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Okay,” Quinn smiled.

The blonde packed up her things. Rachel walked Quinn to her car and stood in front of the driver’s door as Quinn opened the car and dropped her things onto the front passenger seat.

“See you tomorrow,” Quinn said cheerfully, she reached out to bring Rachel into a hug.

“See you tomorrow,” Rachel echoed. “Drive safe. Text me when you get home,” she said, brushing a kiss to Quinn’s cheek and then pulling away. But she still stood close and she gazed up into Quinn’s eyes.

Quinn smiled. “I will. Good night,” she said softly. She didn’t know why she didn’t just get into her car and leave. She stood for a few moments, her eyes gazing back at Rachel.

Rachel laughed softly. “Hey,” she murmured. “Wake up earlier tomorrow. I’ll pick you up and I’ll buy you breakfast.”

Quinn’s lips curved into a small smile. “Well, I don’t know,” she joked. “I’m not sure it’s worth getting up early for a free breakfast. Not everyone wakes up before the sun rises like you.”

Rachel chuckled. “Okay, then. You can buy your own breakfast.”

Quinn swatted at Rachel’s arm. “I demand you buy me breakfast!” she teased. “I’m giving up beauty sleep for you, so I demand you buy me breakfast.”

Rachel grinned. “You don’t need beauty sleep,” she murmured. “So why should I feel guilty about it? But even so, yes, I’ll buy you breakfast. Pick you up at 7?”

Quinn groaned. “Okay,” she agreed. “But only because you said you’d buy me breakfast.”

Rachel smiled. “Okay, then. Good night,” she murmured.

“Good night,” Quinn said quietly. She got into the car and looked up at Rachel as the car door was still open. She gave a small wave and then shut the door. She turned back to give one final wave before she drove away. She gave one last look into the rearview mirror to see that Rachel had just started the walk back into her house.

\--  
“Happy Friday,” Rachel greeted when she picked Quinn up the next morning.

“What’s so happy about it?” Quinn grumbled playfully as she got into Rachel’s car. She slapped Rachel’s thigh. “You made me get up early,” she accused.

“But now I’m going to buy you a _delicious_ meal which includes your favorite food item,” Rachel said with a grin as she put the car in drive and drove away from the curb.

Quinn snorted. “You seriously overstate my love for bacon,” she complained good-naturedly. But she did like it.

Rachel pointed to the band-aid depicting bacon around Quinn’s left index finger and laughed.

Quinn slapped Rachel’s arm. “You got me these band-aids!”

Rachel gave Quinn a dirty look, but then smiled. “I’m driving!” she chided. “You assaulting me while I am trying to maneuver through these roads may end in our untimely fiery deaths.”

“I’d rather be right than be alive,” Quinn declared.

Rachel snorted. “I know you’re kidding, but somehow that suits you.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “It suits you, too,” she pointed out.

“I know, but I’m okay with that.”

Quinn laughed and shook her head. She looked at Rachel fondly for a moment and then turned away to gaze out of the passenger side window.

\--

Despite Quinn’s insistence that Rachel buy her breakfast, once the check actually came, there was a struggle as both Quinn and Rachel attempted to yank the bill away from each other. Ultimately however, Rachel was successful and she smacked a twenty dollar bill into the check holder and passed it to waiter who happened to come by.

Rachel smiled triumphantly.

Quinn rolled her eyes and flung a packet of Splenda at Rachel which Rachel caught and put back into the sugar holder. Quinn rolled her eyes again, but she gazed at Rachel with affection. “You’re better at catching than most of the guys on the football team,” she commented with a giggle.

Rachel grinned crookedly. “I am not certain how complimentary that is considering our football team is so hopelessly inept.”

Quinn smiled. “If you were on the football team in all your unfashionable midget glory…” she giggled when she saw the look of outrage on Rachel’s face, “it wouldn’t be so pointless to cheer for such a losing team.”

Rachel chuckled. “I suppose that’s kind of complimentary, although not over much,” she grumbled. “You’re just lucky I’m not making you walk to school for that.”

Quinn grinned. “It’s only a couple blocks away and the weather is nice,” she said with a shrug. She paused and then gave Rachel a small smile. “But don’t make me walk.”

Rachel smiled back. “I’d never do something like that to you.”

And Quinn believed her. Not just about making her walk to school, because that would actually be sort of funny, but about not doing anything like that. Rachel wasn’t perfect-- she was self-absorbed, just like Quinn herself was, and Rachel’s focus could, at times, be far too narrow-- a classic case of someone who is unable to see the forest for the trees. But Rachel was a good person and ultimately kind-hearted and while Rachel occasionally said and did shitty things, Quinn didn’t think Rachel was capable of _true_ malice, not toward her or anyone else.

She used to see Rachel as a threat because she recognized the ruthless streak in Rachel that she had in herself and so she’d endeavored to keep Rachel pushed down as much as possible. But she recognized now that there was only so far Rachel would ever go, and that when it came to friends, Rachel could be trusted. It was kind of a comfort.

\--

They served their last day of detention from the incident in Mr. Johnson’s classroom and walked out of the classroom, jubilant.

“Exonerated!” Rachel crowed, punching the air with both fists.

“We were not exonerated,” Quinn said, rolling her eyes. “We were paroled.”

“We were wrongfully imprisoned,” Rachel said. “Even though we served our time, we will be exonerated and this blight on our records will be expunged. I’ll make sure of it.”

Quinn chuckled. “I have to go to my locker. Come with me?”

“I have to go to mine, too,” Rachel said. “I’ll meet you at yours, okay?”

Quinn smiled. “Okay.”

\--

Quinn hated her locker because it had a tendency to get stuck. She was fumbling with it and finally got it unlocked and pulled it open with a hard jerk when she felt the locker hit something.

Rachel released an outraged squeak and Quinn gasped in horror. Alarmed, she slammed her locker shut to see that Rachel was pressing her hands to her forehead and giving Quinn a _look_.

“Sorry!” Quinn gasped, grabbing Rachel. She pulled the brunette close, her hands covering Rachel’s head as if that could take the pain away. “I’m so sorry,” she said. She hugged Rachel close and pressed small, comforting kisses to Rachel’s forehead and the top of her head. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

Rachel giggled and then Quinn knew she was okay. Quinn giggled, too.

“You creeper!” Quinn exclaimed. “That wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t sneak up on me.”

Rachel chuckled. “Having problems with your locker?”

“I hate this one. I want a new one.”

Rachel smiled and passed the book she was holding to Quinn. “Hold this”

Quinn took it.

“What’s your combination?”

“24-38-15, but you’re not going to be able to--” Quinn trailed off as she watched Rachel spin the combination and then open the locker in one smooth gesture. “I hate you,” she grumbled playfully.

Rachel stepped away to give Quinn room. She wiggled her fingers, spirit-fingers style. “Magic!”

Quinn snorted. “You and your delusions of grandeur.”

“They aren’t delusions when they’re true, Quinn,” Rachel said with a smile.

Quinn snorted. “You’re such a weirdo,” she groused with affection.

\--

Rachel dropped her off since apparently Rachel had some errands to run. Quinn offered to keep her company, but Rachel declined, grinning that Quinn would be extremely bored.

“Hey, Santana wants to hang out tonight,” Quinn said. “So come over later, okay?”

Rachel smiled. “Okay.”  
“See you later, partner.”

“Definitely, partner.”

\--

By the time Rachel came over, Santana and Brittany were already at Quinn’s house.

“It’s about time,” Santana said with a scowl. “I’m starving.”

Rachel smiled crookedly. “I apologize profusely for your impatient stomach.”

Santana snorted. “You’re cute and all, but I’m ready to cook _you_ and eat you.”

Rachel made a face. “That sounds dirty.”

“You wish.” Santana said, rolling her eyes. “Let’s go.”

\--

They went back to Quinn’s house after they ate because they couldn’t decide on what to do. It was a small town and they were minors, so the options were limited.

“Puck has a party,” Brittany commented.

“No,” Quinn and Santana said together.

Rachel chuckled. Her phone rang and Rachel glanced down at it. Her smile dimmed slightly.

“Everything okay?” Brittany asked, seeing the look on Rachel’s face.

“Yes, of course. I just…I need to take this. I’ll be right back.” Rachel smiled again and left Quinn’s bedroom and slipped into the hallway.

“I feel like swimming,” Brittany said.

“The pool’s still closed, Brit,” Quinn reminded her.

The community pool opened up mid-June and it was still only mid-May.

“So?” Santana asked. “The water is still there, and I know they’ve been cleaning it to get ready to open up again.”

“It’ll be freezing.”

“So we’ll go into the Jacuzzi to warm up. I think it’s a good idea,” Santana declared.

Quinn suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. If _she’d_ suggested a swim, Santana would have loudly decried the idea. But since _Brittany_ suggested it, it was suddenly a good idea.

“Fine,” Quinn said grudgingly, because there really wasn’t much else to do.

Rachel came back a few minutes later and reclaimed her seat on the bed next to Quinn.

“We’re going to the pool,” Quinn said.

“But it’s closed.”

“We’re breaking in,” Santana said. “Got a problem with it?”

Rachel shrugged. “I’m good at picking locks. I refuse to climb over the fence. It’s undignified.”

\--

It was surprising but not so surprising that Rachel knew how to pick a lock.

Rachel gave them a toothy smile as she triumphantly opened the lock to the community pool with very little trouble.

“You’re a felon,” Santana said.

“I’m just multi-skilled and versatile,” Rachel said with a beatific smile.

\--

Rachel seemed a little fearful, because she wasn’t a strong swimmer, so Quinn stayed with Rachel in the shallow end to keep her company while Brittany and Santana floated on their backs in the deep end and occasionally taunted Rachel by flaunting their swimming ability.

The water was freezing, but once they got used to it, it was nice. It was dark because there were no lights, but it was a full moon and plenty of stars, so it was pretty easy to see.

“You aren’t such a bad swimmer,” Quinn observed, watching Rachel swim.

“I can swim, I’m just not very good at it.”

Quinn smiled. “I can’t believe _you’re_ admitting to it,” she teased.

Rachel laughed softly. “We all have our faults. I think this is a pretty acceptable one as far as faults go.”

Quinn rolled her eyes and splashed Rachel.

Rachel giggle and began splashing back.

They splashed and squealed for a few moments before Santana told them to knock it off, unless they _wanted_ to get caught.

Rachel looked chastised and contrite. She made a face and then leaned in close to Quinn.

“Weeeeee,” she whispered.

Quinn giggled and wrapped her arm around Rachel’s shoulder, her forearm resting against the back of Rachel’s neck. “Weeeeeee,” she whispered back.

Rachel giggled.

\--

When the water got too cold, they climbed out and went into the Jacuzzi which had recently been cleaned in preparation for the re-opening of the pool for the impending summer. Santana turned on the jets and the water became nice and toasty.

Quinn sat down and leaned back and let the jet hit a steady stream of water on a knot in her back.

She let out a low moan because it felt _so_ good.

Santana smirked. “Do you need some time alone, Quinn?”

Quinn blushed. “Shut up.”

The four sat in the Jacuzzi for a while. Quinn lay back and turned to look at Rachel who was relaxed, her head tilted back, eyes closed as she softly hummed ‘Seasons of Love’ from _RENT_. Quinn couldn’t resist a smile before she turned away to catch Santana and Brittany looking at her, each of them smirking.

Brittany made a gesture with her hands that simulated a sexual position which made Santana giggle and Quinn blush. Santana made a ‘V’ with the index finger and middle finger of her right hand and made a lewd gesture with her tongue. Quinn made a face. Quinn gave them harshly silencing looks and then slouched down and mirrored Rachel’s posture. Quinn closed her eyes and just enjoyed the feeling of illegally being in a Jacuzzi at the community pool.

Quinn opened her eyes when she heard Rachel release a soft, surprised gasp. Quinn glanced at Rachel who was now staring at her lap, cheeks bright pink, clearly trying not to look up. Quinn turned to Santana and Brittany to see Brittany straddling Santana’s lap so that they were face-to-face. They were kissing heatedly, arms and hands roaming over one another frenetically.

Quinn reached her hand out to clasp Rachel on the shoulder. Rachel jumped and looked at Quinn.

Quinn gestured with her head to leave, and Rachel nodded her head in quick assent.

They got out of the Jacuzzi, leaving a little noisily, but Brittany and Santana didn’t seem to notice. They ran back to the pool and jumped in together, hand-in-hand, rising to the surface, laughing.

Quinn hooked her legs around Rachel’s waist. “Walk me around,” she demanded.

Rachel chuckled. “Okay,” she said, holding onto Quinn’s legs which were wrapped around her waist. She began walking around the pool as Quinn lay on her back, looking up at the sky.

“I hate it when they do that,” Quinn said with a sigh.

Rachel blushed. “I’m fond of public displays of affection, but they’re… _very_ affectionate.”

“I know, it’s completely excessive.”

“I think it’s sweet.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.”

“Well, Santana is very good to Brittany.”

“Yeah,” Quinn agreed.

And really, Brittany was really the only person Santana was good to, so it had to be love. There’d been times when Quinn thought about selling Santana and Brittany out to Sue Sylvester or the rest of the school, but they just seemed happy together and that was a line Quinn couldn’t bring herself to cross, even when she thought doing it a lot.

Rachel looked a little wistful. “I bet if we checked back with them in ten years, they’ll still be together. I think they’re going to make it.”

Quinn didn’t have the same kind of faith in relationships she used to have anymore, so she was a little uncertain. “Hmm,” she said noncommittally.

“They don’t seem to have a lot of obstacles,” Rachel said, still looking a little wistful, but now sounding a little envious, too.

Quinn tried to keep her voice light, but she was curious. “Got a secret boyfriend I don’t know about, Rach? Someone people won’t approve of?”

She kind of suspected that maybe Rachel was involved with someone, or at least, she had been, but Rachel had denied it on more than one occasion.

Rachel chuckled. “Definitely not.” She smiled and playfully squeezed Quinn’s legs which were still wrapped around her waist as she walked them around the pool. “But sometimes, two people can’t be together even though they should be.”

Quinn shrugged and made a face when it made water get into her ears and on her face. “I don’t know,” she said. “I think if two people can’t be together, there’s probably a good reason why.”

Rachel looked thoughtful. “Maybe,” she said finally. “But sometimes one person has to go away and can’t come back.”

Rachel seemed a little too somber for a night that was supposed to just be about fun and Quinn wanted to bring Rachel’s good humor back.

“Well, where did that person go?” Quinn teased. “Prison? Because that seems like a good indicator not to be with that person.”

Rachel laughed. “Nothing quite so dramatic. The reasons can be very banal-- college, a job out of the country…” she trailed off. “Uh…the military.”

Quinn sighed. “I’m not the right person to ask about these things.”

Rachel chuckled. “Nor am I.”

They lapsed into companionable silence which broke when Brittany cannonballed into the water with a shriek.

Rachel and Quinn separated and laughed as Brittany began splashing them.

\--  
The four girls splashed around in the pool and then Brittany climbed up on the diving board and jumped off it in a smooth, clean motion, like a knife cutting through the water. Santana whistled appreciatively.

“Santana, now you go,” Brittany called out.

Santana got out without comment and climbed up the diving board to jump in.

“We’ll all take turns.” Brittany said, not bothering to look at either Rachel or Quinn as she stared up at her girl on the diving board.

“I don’t think so, Brittany. I’m not a very strong swimmer,” Rachel said.

“I’ll save you,” Brittany said with a laugh, whooping a little when Santana waved at her from the diving board. She broke out into claps when Santana jumped off and broke the surface of the water almost as cleanly as Brittany did. “You’re awesome!” Brittany called out, swimming to join her girl.

Quinn smiled at Rachel reassuringly. “It’ll be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you,” she said, before she swam to the edge of the pool to hoist herself out.

She climbed up and took a deep breath. She made a show of putting her arms up and then out to her sides and then up again.

“Stop showing off, Fabray and jump!” Santana called up.

Quinn made a face and wished she had something to throw at Santana, but grinned when she saw Rachel splash water at Santana.

She took another deep breath and jumped in. She was airborne for a few moments and it felt amazing. She hit the surface of the water and when she came up, Rachel was clapping.

“I’ll try it,” Rachel said. “But if I drown, I’ll haunt each and every one of you.”

“Which would make like untenable,” Santana shot back. “So I’ll make sure you make it out alive.”

Rachel grinned and climbed out of the water.

“You can do it, Rach,” Quinn called out softly.

Rachel smiled at her and gave a tiny wave as she walked to the diving board and climbed up the ladder.

Quinn stared up at Rachel as Rachel gazed down into the water, took a deep breath and jumped.

Rachel struggled a little to rise to the surface and Quinn began to swim toward her, but once Rachel broke the surface, she was grinning triumphantly. She punched the air in victory and swam over to them. “I’m going to go again.”

Santana rolled her eyes. “I knew this would happen.” She splashed water at Rachel’s back. “And it’s Brit’s turn anyway!”

Brittany chuckled. “She can have it.”

They watched as Rachel climbed up again and this time made a show of various diving positions.

“On with it, Berry!” Santana called up.

Rachel giggled and then jumped up, but did not dive off the board.

“Look at the little one go!” Quinn hooted in support.

Startled, Rachel’s head whipped around to glance at Quinn and her foot slipped as she landed on the board again. She slipped off the board and Quinn watched, horrified, as the back of Rachel’s head collided with the diving board and Rachel fell into the water.

Quinn, Santana and Brittany released shrieks and after a split second of terrified paralysis, began swimming to Rachel, who’d already surfaced and was now swimming toward the edge.

Quinn reached Rachel first guided her to the edge of the pool. Santana and Brittany helped Quinn pull Rachel out.

They crowded around Rachel, trying to assess for injury.

“Are you okay?!” Quinn asked. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to distract you.”

Rachel was laughing as she clutched the back of her head. “That hurt _so_ much,” she gasped out in between fits of laughter. “Even more than when you hit me in face with your locker today.”

Santana looked at Quinn. “I didn’t know you were into the freaky stuff, Fabray.”

Quinn slapped Santana’s arm, but otherwise ignored her. “Rach, are you okay?”

Rachel was laughing, which was a good sign, but Quinn just wanted to be sure.

Rachel laughed again. “Yes,” she assured. “I’m fine.” She laughed even harder. “I’m sure that looked very ungraceful.”

“It did,” Brittany said bluntly. “But it was kind of Quinn’s fault.”

Rachel rubbed the back of her head, and winced a little, but she smiled at Quinn. “Next time, breakfast is on you.”

Quinn laughed softly. “Okay.”

“God, I wish there was video of that,” Santana said. “I’d watch it any time my day sucked to feel better.”

\--

They left the pool after that and congregated at Rachel’s house, since her parents weren’t home. They showered to wash off the chlorine and sat around afterward Rachel’s living room, watching TV and munching on just-delivered pizza. Rachel gave into the craving for cheese and pepperoni and sighed with satisfaction.

“See?” Quinn teased, nudging Rachel’s knee with her own. “You’ve got to give up this vegan thing.”

“My reasons are complex,” Rachel said dryly. “You could never understand,” she joked.

Quinn just rolled her eyes in response.

\--

After a while, the alcohol came out of Rachel’s parents’ liquor cabinet.

“Jesus,” Santana said, as she rifled through the selection. “This is almost as big as your parents’ liquor cabinet, Q. Between the two of you guys, you could open a liquor store.”

Rachel met Quinn’s eyes and gave her a lopsided smile.

“I just bought some orange juice and cranberry juice,” she said. “Oh, and I know we have ginger ale. I’ll get some ice.”

“I’ll help you,” Quinn said, getting up and following Rachel into the kitchen.

Rachel hummed softly as she got everything together.

“You’re really okay, Rach?”

Rachel smiled. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry I distracted you.”

Rachel smiled. “It wasn’t your fault.”

She grabbed everything and put it on a tray while Quinn carried out four glasses.

“Let’s go,” Rachel said.

\--

Somehow they got around to playing drinking games.

It didn’t take much for Rachel to get a little buzzed, and Santana, Quinn and Brittany exchanged surreptitious grins at the way Rachel began to slur ever so slightly.

\--

They sat in a tight circle, Brittany sandwiched between Rachel and Santana, and Quinn sitting to the left of Rachel.

“I never kissed a boy,” Santana said, just to start them all off on the right foot.

They all took a drink.

“I never kissed a girl,” Brittany said.

Santana and Brittany looked at one another, pecked their lips together in a quick kiss, reached for their glasses and took long gulps of their drinks.

Simultaneously, Rachel reached for her glass and began to lift it up but then suddenly put her drink down again.

Santana smirked. “I saw that!”

Rachel blushed. “I just got confused about the rules!”

Santana grinned. “So you never kissed a girl?” she asked, teasingly.

Rachel’s cheeks turned pink. “I…uh…”

Brittany grinned at her. “Aren’t you sure? You either have or you haven’t.”

“Of course I’m--”

Brittany silenced her with a kiss.

Quinn watched, her brow furrowed as Brittany practically climbed on top of Rachel. For her part, Rachel didn’t protest. Quinn wanted to look away, but she couldn’t, she just stared as Brittany climbed into Rachel’s lap and kissed her. She watched as Brittany deepened the kiss and they each made little mewling noises. Quinn’s mouth felt dry and she grabbed her drink and took a sip, but she still couldn’t look away.

Finally, Brittany pulled away and smiled. She stroked Rachel’s cheek with the back of one of her hands.

“You’re a good kisser,” Brittany declared. “Now you won’t be confused about whether or not you kissed a girl because I’m awesome.”

“Yeah, you are,” Santana called out suggestively. Santana slapped Brittany’s thigh. “That was hot, Brittany.”

Brittany turned to Santana and grinned wickedly. She leaned in toward Santana and whispered in her ear.

Santana was grinning when Brittany pulled away. “Take a drink, Berry,” Santana said. “Now you’ve kissed a girl.”

Rachel dutifully took one.

Santana, who was sitting to Quinn’s left turned to the blonde, got up onto her knees and pulled Quinn toward her by grabbing onto the front of Quinn’s shirt and pulling. Wordlessly, she pressed her lips against Quinn’s.

Quinn’s eyes widened and she struggled against Santana for a moment before she finally just gave in and kissed back. She was _just_ beginning to forget that this was Santana she was kissing and starting to _really_ enjoy it when Santana pulled back and slapped Quinn’s thigh.

“Now _you_ have to drink, too,” Santana said. “Because now we’ve all kissed girls.”

Quinn’s hand shook slightly as she raised the glass to her lips, she felt completely off-kilter. Santana looked smug.

\--

They moved on from ‘I Never’ to Truth-or-Dare.

“You keep choosing dare, Rach,” Santana said with a smirk. “What are you trying to hide?”

Rachel smiled. “I’m an open book,” she said, humming a few bars of ‘Part of Your World' from _The Little Mermaid_. Her cheeks were pink and she was clearly very buzzed. She was lying on her stomach, with butt in the air. She seemed a little hyperactive because her butt wiggled every few minutes.

“Okay, then,” Santana said. “Truth or dare?”

Rachel smiled. “Truth,” she said.

“Was Brittany the first girl you kissed?”

It shouldn’t have mattered, but Quinn desperately wanted to know that, too.

Rachel’s smile dimmed slightly. She paused. “Yes.”

That was a lie. Quinn just knew it.

Santana chuckled. “You big liar. What’s the penalty for lying in Truth or Dare?”

“Spanking,” Brittany said. She slammed her hand down on Rachel’s butt, making an audible smack.

“Brittany!” Rachel exclaimed in mock outage. She laughed and rubbed her butt.

Quinn stared at Rachel for a moment and then looked away. When she did, she met Santana’s eyes. Santana’s eyes narrowed for a moment and she smirked.

“I can’t wait to get you over my lap, Berry,” Santana said with a laugh. She looked at Rachel’s butt appreciatively and her eyes trailed down Rachel’s bare legs, but she turned to Quinn and smirked because Quinn was looking at Rachel, too.

Quinn clenched her jaw and sneered at her. She didn’t like the way Santana looked at Rachel when she already had Brittany and she didn’t like the way Santana was smirking at her. What the hell was Santana trying to prove anyway? “Hey, Santana. Truth or dare.”

Santana shrugged. “Truth,” she said. “I really _am_ an open book,” she said, giving Rachel a look. But she smiled at Rachel, and it was genuine.

Rachel giggled. “San.”

“What’s the story with your boob job?” Quinn said.

Because really, they only looked a little bigger when they got back to school. After a few months, when the swelling had gone down and Santana’s breasts dropped slightly, the way they were supposed to after breast augmentation, they really didn’t look that much bigger. So what had been the point?

“Quinn,” Rachel said quietly. “Don’t. You shouldn’t. That’s not…”

“She can handle it, Rach. Remember? She’s an open book.”

Santana shrugged and took a sip of her drink before she responded. “It’s really not any of your fucking business, Fabray, but the BRCA2 gene runs in my family-- that’s the breast cancer gene. It skipped my mom, but four of her sisters died from breast cancer and so did my grandmother. I got the test done this summer and I’m a carrier. I thought it was better to be proactive than reactive, so I got a double mastectomy and got implants.”

Quinn blanched and she stared at Santana who stared back at her unflinchingly, her face blank. Quinn glanced at Rachel who was staring back at her with a mixture of sympathy and disappointment and she knew from the look on Rachel’s face and the way Rachel tried to stop her, that Rachel had known. She looked at Brittany, and could only see Brittany’s face in profile because Brittany was looking at Santana and holding Santana’s hand. Brittany looked anguished, but not surprised, and so Quinn knew that it was true. It was all true and not some way for Santana to screw with her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Quinn asked quietly.

“Because we’re friends, Q. I didn’t think I needed to explain myself after I asked you to keep it quiet. I just assumed you would.”

Quinn turned to Rachel. “You knew about this?”

“Rachel can keep a secret,” Santana interjected.

“But why didn’t you tell Sylvester. She--”

“Because it’s none of her fucking business, either. If I wanted sympathy and understanding, I would have told you and Sylvester. But I want things to go back to fucking normal, okay?”

Quinn swallowed hard. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Santana was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, well. I’m sorry about the thing I said about your kid,” she said gruffly.

\--

Quinn, Santana and Brittany texted their parents that they were going to sleep over at Rachel’s. In truth, they’d all drank a little too much alcohol to make driving home feasible. Santana and Brittany took Rachel’s spare bedroom while Rachel and Quinn shared Rachel’s bed.

\--

It was difficult for Quinn to sleep and she didn’t want to toss and turn and keep Rachel up. But Santana’s admission weighed heavily on her mind and she felt _awful_.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She turned around to see Rachel lying on her stomach, face pressed into the pillow. Quinn smiled and reached out to palm Rachel’s cheek for a moment and then sat up, intending to get some fresh air in the backyard.

Rachel roused. “Hey,” she said. “Where are you going?”

“I just need some air.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Quinn said. “Go back to sleep.”

Rachel made a few sleepy sounds, stretched her limbs while she was still lying in the bed and then sat up. “I’ll go with you,” she murmured.

“Okay.”

\--

They sat around in the lawn furniture in Rachel’s backyard.

“I feel really bad about Santana,” Quinn confessed.

“Well, you didn’t know,” Rachel said.

Quinn was miserable. “I never should have told anyway,” she said. “I was being a bitch. I’m just…” she sighed. “I am not a good friend.”

Rachel rubbed Quinn’s knee. “You’re a very good friend,” she refuted. “You just made a mistake. And how were you supposed to know? Breast augmentation is not a surgery that is traditionally taken very seriously because it’s often purely cosmetic and elective. You couldn’t have known.”

“I still feel really bad,” Quinn whispered. “I mean, I didn’t even… _ask_ why she did it. I should have at least asked. Maybe she would have told me.”

“Or maybe, knowing Santana, she would have told you to mind your own fucking business and we would still be having this conversation anyway,” Rachel pointed out gently. “You were wrong, and you made a mistake, but everyone makes mistakes. And since I’ve made many mistakes in my life, I have to believe that we’re better than our mistakes.”

Quinn chuckled. “I guess we both can be,” she murmured, reaching for Rachel’s hand and squeezing it. She still felt like shit, but Rachel made Quinn feel a _little_ better.

They sat in silence for a while, holding hands until Rachel stood up. “Come on,” she said softly. “Let’s go back to bed. It’s still pretty cold in the mornings.”

“Okay.”

Quinn followed Rachel back to the bedroom. This time, rather than each of them staying on their respective sides of the bed, Rachel snuggled close to Quinn.

“It’s cold,” Rachel complained in a low murmur.

“Yeah,” Quinn agreed, pulling Rachel even closer, so their heads shared the same pillow. Quinn let out a little sigh and then she fell asleep.

\--

Quinn woke up the next day to find Rachel sitting at the foot of the bed, with her back toward her. Rachel was looking at her phone, her shoulders slumped slightly.

“You okay, Rach?”

Rachel jumped slightly, clearly startled. She turned around and smiled. “Hey, partner.”

“Everything okay?” Quinn repeated, sitting up in the bed and crawling toward Rachel on all fours.

Rachel stood up quickly. “Of course,” she said. “Uh…I’m going to…make breakfast for everyone. Go back to sleep, I’ll call you when breakfast is ready.”

She moved quickly toward the door.

“Rach.”

“Yes?” Rachel asked, turning around to look at Quinn.

“Whatever is going on,” Quinn said quietly. “I hope you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

Rachel gave her a frail smile. “Nothing’s going on.”

Rachel left the room. Once she closed the door behind her, she looked at the phone again and stared at the email Taylor sent her in response to the one she sent Taylor.

 _I hate you, too, you little bitch_  



	6. Chapter 6

 

 

Rachel got off the phone with Taylor and clenched the phone in her hand. Things were still so screwed up. Taylor left and Rachel thought if she just ignored Taylor or forgot about her, it would make things better. For a little while, it did. But she couldn’t forget about Taylor-- the woman was buried so far under her skin, Rachel couldn’t get her out.

Rachel hated her. With Taylor away, Rachel had time to really think about everything that she tried to forget about. She _hated_ Taylor. She hated Taylor for taking what Rachel would have willingly given, if Taylor just asked. She hated Taylor for making it hurt _so_ terribly. She hated Taylor for all those memories of helplessness. She hated Taylor for making her _beg_. No matter how much she begged and pleaded, it never helped and Rachel hated Taylor for that, too.

But she loved Taylor, too. She loved Taylor even more when she discovered what a good sister she’d been to Quinn when they were growing up. She’d once worshipped the ground Taylor walked on, and not much had changed in that respect.

She started to exchange emails with Taylor again. She couldn’t help it-- one day, she emailed Taylor simply to tell her _I hate you for what you did to me_ , to which Taylor replied, _I hate you, too, you little bitch_.

It stung.

Later that day, Taylor called and Rachel spoke to her, even though they’d only talked the day before. She excused herself from Brittany, Santana and Quinn who were still over and went into the kitchen to talk privately.

Every time she spoke to Taylor, she just felt so confused and lost. She wasn’t unhappy, per se. But she just didn’t know _what_ to think or _how_ to feel.

It was cliché, but there were times when she thought it would just be better to cease existing than have to be so hopelessly confused. She wasn’t all that unhappy, but she’d had recurrent thoughts of suicide ever since Taylor came back into her life and they weren’t going away. They weren’t super serious or anything, but she kind of comforted herself into the knowledge that if things ever became unbearable enough, suicide was a feasible option. Her father, Eddie, was a doctor who got loads of medication samples which he kept around the house and she was sure she could make a fatal concoction if she washed it down with enough alcohol which they also had in plentiful supply. She could always make a noose from bedsheets, prison inmate style. They had two guns in the home which had been purchased a few years ago when her father, Judah, owed some people money. She knew where they were kept and the combinations to the gun safe. And of course, there were plenty of sharp objects around. So, she had options.

Rachel picked up a knife out of the cutlery drawer and looked at it contemplatively. She gripped it tightly in her hand. She would never cut, at least, not for self-harm, but if she ever decided she didn’t want to live anymore, she had access to her father’s anatomy books and she could figure out a way to make it fatal.

“Rachel?” Quinn asked quietly.

Rachel turned around and Quinn was standing behind her, moving toward her very slowly. “Hey,” she smiled.

“Why are you just standing there holding a knife?” Quinn asked softly.

Rachel blinked and set the knife back in the drawer. “I was just thinking about if I should make us lunch or if we should go out for it.”

“You don’t have any more food in the fridge.”

The refrigerator at Rachel’s house tended to be pretty sparse, and so they’d pretty much eaten through whatever was in the fridge at breakfast.

“Then I guess we’ll have to go out to eat.”

“Why were you holding the knife?”

“What are you implying, Quinn? What are you _really_ trying to ask?”

Quinn swallowed. “You would never hurt yourself, would you?” she asked quietly.

Quinn peered deeply into Rachel’s eyes and the look on Quinn’s face was so intense, Rachel felt the need to take a step back.

“No,” Rachel said quietly. “Of course not. I was just putting the knife back.”

Quinn still looked a little alarmed and worried. “What’s _wrong_?” Quinn asked softly.

“Nothing.”

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” Quinn asked gently.

Rachel released a ragged sigh. “Nothing, really,” Rachel assured.

She could never tell _Quinn_ about what was going on with Taylor. She could never tell anyone because she promised.

“I really wish you’d tell me, Rach,” Quinn said quietly.

‘You really don’t,’ Rachel thought. But she smiled. “There’s nothing going on. Really, Quinn. If something were, I’d tell you.”

Quinn bit her lower lip. “Really?”

Rachel nodded. “Of course,” she said, smiling reassuringly. “If I ever _really_ needed someone or if I were ever really in trouble, you would be the one I’d tell. Because you’re an amazing friend.”

Quinn gave her a sunny smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It wasn’t really a lie. Quinn was an amazing friend and with anything else other than _this_ , Rachel would tell Quinn.

\--

A few weeks later, they won at Regionals, beating out Vocal Adrenaline. Rachel couldn’t resist grabbing Quinn into a jubilant hug. They were on their way to Nationals.

Rachel thought that Sunshine Corazon was a better person that she was (and shorter, too, which was hilarious), because Sunshine congratulated her with a smile that seemed really genuine.

Seeing Sunshine and Shelby, who came out in support of Vocal Adrenaline, did not diminish the joy of the victory. However, when Rachel checked her phone after they all returned to the dressing room, she saw an email from Taylor sent before the competition started..

 _I know you’ll do great, little one. Make me proud_.

Rachel swallowed hard. Two sentences from Taylor _could_ ruin the victory for her, however. It’s not that it was ruined, but she was thrown off.

Quinn bounded over to her and held up her phone. “Look! Taylor said congratulations! I emailed her that we won and she responded back in, like, five seconds.”

Rachel smiled. “Well, hurry up and email her to say ‘thanks.’”

“Later,” Quinn said. “I was too nervous to eat all day and now I’m starving. Brit and Santana want to get Grand Slams at Denny’s, so let’s go.”

“You know,” Rachel said. “I’m feeling pretty tired. I think I’ll pass this time. I’m just going to go home, shower and get into bed. We’ll hang out tomorrow though, okay?”

“I…uh. Okay,” Quinn said. “Everything all right?”

“Just tired,” Rachel said with a smile. She stepped toward Quinn and stepped up on tiptoe to kiss Quinn’s cheek. “We’ll definitely hang out tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Quinn said softly, putting her hand on Rachel’s back and rubbing it gently. “Get some sleep.”

\--

Rachel returned home to her empty house. Daddy was still in California. Dad stayed a couple weeks in LA trying to convince Daddy to come home, apparently, but to no avail. Dad had been pretty grumpy as a result and so Rachel just tried her best to stay out of his way. He seemed to be sleeping at the hospital lately, so she really didn’t see that much of him.

She took a shower and crawled into bed. She put her iPod into the docking station and hit shuffle and pulled the covers over her head. She took a few deep breaths, bit her lip and then reached for her phone to call Taylor. Taylor still had the same cell phone number since her carrier had international coverage.

“Hey, little one,” Taylor drawled when she answered.

Rachel smiled. “Hi.”

“Quinn says you guys won, congratulations. That’s fantastic.”

“Thanks,” Rachel murmured. She paused. “Tay,” she said, her voice breaking a little. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, Rachel,” Taylor said softly. “But it really is better that we don’t see each other.”

“Better for you,” Rachel said resentfully.

“Better for _you_ ,” Taylor shot back. “Quinn told me you guys have been hanging out a lot. I think that’s great. You should be having fun like that.”

“She’s a great friend,” Rachel said quietly.

“She’s great,” Taylor agreed. “But don’t get so close to my little sister that you start to feel like you can tell her _everything_ , okay? Some stuff, like everything between me and you, that’s private. It should stay between me and you, and you know Q would never understand.”

“I know,” Rachel said quietly. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Quinn is my friend and I do love her, but not the way I love you.”

Taylor chuckled. “Good,” she said softly. “Because remember, if you tell anyone about us, especially about what happened a long time ago, it could really ruin my life and it could ruin Quinn’s, too.”

“I’ve already told you I wouldn’t do that to either of you,” Rachel said quietly. “Why do you keep belaboring this point?”

“I think it bears repeating, considering you really do have a big mouth, Rachel,” Taylor said. “Quinn told me you told her about your dad. You told me you would never tell anyone about that other than me. And now you’ve told Quinn.”

“That’s different,” Rachel said resentfully.

“How so?”

“Because I...” Rachel trailed off. She tried to think, tried to come up for an answer, and she couldn’t. She was usually really good about thinking on her feet, but when it came to Taylor or she was talking to Taylor, she just couldn’t _think_. “I don’t know,” she admitted grudgingly.

“Hey,” Taylor murmured. “I’m glad you told someone about it,” she said softly. “But I’m just pointing out that was something you said you’d never tell anyone about, and now you have. So I just want to make sure you keep our secret a secret.”

“I will,” Rachel swore. “I’ll do better. I promise.”

“That’s my girl.”

They talked for a few more minutes and while Taylor was sweet to her, Rachel just couldn’t figure out why she always felt so much worse after talking to Taylor.

She curled up in bed after hanging up with Taylor. She hugged her pillow and stared morosely at her phone. Sometimes she just wanted to hurl it at the wall or defenestrate it.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed, and she must have drifted off a little bit, although she was not asleep. She started to hear this insistent tapping. She tried to ignoring it at first, thinking it may just be rain on her roof, but then she realized it was at her window. She thought maybe it was a tree branch or something hitting her window.

“Ugh,” she muttered. She got out of bed to see what the _hell_ was going on and she pulled open her shutters with a violent yank. But there was no tree branch at her window. She heard hooting and she looked down to see Quinn, Santana and Brittany looking up at her.

“Hey Rachel! Thanks for the view, but I think you might want to put a shirt on!” Santana shouted up at her.

Rachel looked down at herself and gasped. She simultaneously covered herself by crossing her arms in front of her chest and dropping to the ground, out of view. She’d forgotten she went to bed topless. She grabbed a shirt and a pair of shorts, put them on, and went back to the window.

“What are you guys doing here?” she asked irritably, her face still red from embarrassment.

“Well, speaking for myself, I’d like an encore,” Santana called up. “Show me your boobs!”

Santana started laughing and Brittany smacked Santana in the stomach. Quinn was staring at the ground, clearly as mortified for Rachel as Rachel was for herself.

“What are you guys doing here?” Rachel repeated.

“Let us in!” Brittany called up.

Rachel sighed. She wanted to be alone, but she also didn’t want to waste more time yelling down into her front yard. She walked down the stairs and then opened her front door where Quinn, Santana and Brittany were already waiting for her.

“What’s going on, guys?” Rachel asked.

“Q said you were going to hole up here like a hermit,” Santana said. “So we came to hang out.”

“Tonight’s not such a good night.”

Santana cocked her head. “Why not? Tonight was a great night. We won.”

Rachel sighed. “Come in,” she muttered. She opened the door wider to allow them entry.

Santana grinned at her and stepped inside. She patted Rachel’s shoulder as she passed. Brittany came in and grinned at her.

“Your boobs are really nice,” Brittany commented. Brittany put her hands on Rachel’s breasts and gave them a gentle squeeze.

Rachel looked at her wryly. “Thank you, Brittany,” she said, wholly unsurprised by Brittany’s casual invasion of her personal space. “Yours are very nice, too.”

Quinn stepped inside, her cheeks still pink.

“I’m embarrassed for myself,” Rachel murmured, with a grin. “So you can stop being embarrassed for me.”

Quinn gave her a small smile. “Here,” she said, passing Rachel a white paper bag. “I made them stop by Danielson’s, since I know you like their portabello mushroom sandwich. I thought you might be hungry.”

Rachel beamed at her and pulled Quinn in for a hug. “You’re the best,” she murmured.

Quinn wrapped her arms around Rachel’s waist and brushed Rachel’s bangs out of her eyes. “You really were sleeping,” she commented with a smile, smoothing out the back of Rachel’s hair which was sticking up a little.

Rachel smiled. “I told you I was.”

“I thought you were being anti-social.”

Rachel chuckled, because she’d come to appreciate Quinn’s bluntness. “I’d never be anti-social with you,” she murmured. “You’d be the exception.”

“Big liar,” Quinn chided softly with a laugh.

“Hey, will you two stop feeling each other up long enough to join Brit and me in the living room?” Santana asked, emerging back into the foyer.

Quinn’s cheeks turned pink and Rachel’s cheeks burned her so hotly, she was sure she must have looked like a tomato.

“Let’s go,” Rachel said, pulling away from Quinn but grabbing her by the hand and guiding her toward the living room despite the fact that Quinn knew exactly how to get there.

Rachel wasn’t really hungry, so she set the sandwich on the coffee table as they all piled onto the couch to watch TV.

“Rachel, what the hell? Are you incapable of watching something longer than two seconds?” Santana asked as Rachel flipped through channels.

“I don’t like anything that’s on,” Rachel complained.

Santana snorted. “Always looking for something better, huh?” she asked. “I feel sorry for your next boyfriend.”

Rachel reached across Brittany and Quinn to kick Santana in the thigh with the heel of her foot.

“ _Ow_ ,” Santana complained. “Why are you hitting me with the heel of your foot?”

“Why are you narrating?”

Santana reached across Brittany and Quinn to kick Rachel back.

“Hey!” Quinn exclaimed irritably, slapping Santana’s leg away. “Knock it off.”

Rachel stuck her tongue out at Santana who rolled her eyes.

“Grow up, Berry.”

Rachel could only laugh.

\--  
Brittany was in the bathroom and Quinn had already left when Santana kissed her for the first time that night, the night of their Regionals victory.

“Hey,” Rachel asked quietly, because they were alone. “Were you okay with all the…breast talk tonight? Did it make you uncomfortable? It wasn’t intentional on my part.”

Santana gazed at her for a moment and then kissed her.

Rachel hesitated for a moment before she began kissing back.

She was still kissing Santana when she felt the couch cushion dip slightly and then Brittany began kissing her neck.

She had sex with Santana _and_ Brittany that night, in her bedroom, with the lights off and with the window open only a crack for light. Santana, who always seemed so fearless and self-confident, seemed so self-conscious about being seen topless, at least by Rachel. She understood, but at the same time, didn’t understand because she didn’t think it changed Santana’s worth a bit. But she was a teenage girl, too, and one who admittedly had her own range of problems with self-esteem and she decided not to belabor the point beyond assuring Santana that she was beautiful.  
\--

It started to become a regular thing-- at least a couple nights a week, most often in her bedroom because her home was emptiest. It took a few while for Santana to feel comfortable, but eventually Rachel saw-- Santana was still beautiful, and Rachel told her so. Santana cried a little, even though she pretended she wasn’t and Brittany kissed Rachel and whispered “I love you” because really, Brittany loved anyone who loved Santana.

\--

She had a nightmare that night. Maybe it was something about being told “I love you” by a tall, pretty blonde girl, but Rachel had a nightmare of a pretty blonde holding her down and slipping something inside her that was so painful, it was like being impaled by a knife. She woke up, sweating, crying and whimpering because everything _hurt_ and she was still just so fucking afraid.

She curled up, sobbing. Santana and Brittany were long-gone and she was so so grateful for that.

She stared at the clock when she finally calmed down and squinted to read the LED light. It was 2am. She tried for another hour to get to sleep, but she couldn’t get comfortable and even got on the elliptical for twenty minutes, but it was too half-hearted to really constitute a work out.

Finally, she collapsed into her bed. She clutched the phone in her hand and started to dial Taylor, but stopped. She still didn’t have a handle of the time difference, and she doubted she’d be able to go back to sleep if she talked to Taylor anyway. She scrolled up, settled on Quinn’s name, took a deep breath and hit ‘Call.’

Quinn answered after a few rings, sounding grumpy and disoriented.

“Rach, you better be fucking dead or dying. Or maybe in a Mexican prison.”

Rachel laughed softly. “I can’t go back to sleep. Will you just keep me company for a while?”

Quinn sounded a little more alert. “Is everything okay?”

“Just insomnia,” Rachel said quietly. “You don’t even have to talk…”

“You want me to just breathe on the phone?” Quinn teased gently. “You big weirdo.”

Rachel laughed. “Well, are you going to tell me a story or something?”

“Yes. Once there was a princess named Rachel who was the princess of Midgetopia. Princess Rachel seemed to take great joy in irking the princess of a neighboring land, Princess Quinn, who ruled the land of Incredibly-Graceful-and-Beautiful-to-Boot--”

“That is a very long name for a country. Are you sure it’s on the official seal?”

“They just used smaller font to make it fit. In any case, Princess Quinn, a benevolent--”

“But totalitarian.”

“Ruler,” Quinn said, not missing a beat, “decided to give Princess Rachel the benefit of the doubt despite the fact that Princess Rachel was unfathomably short--”

“I’m 5’2”,” Rachel protested.

“And obviously had no qualms about prevaricating about her alleged height of five foot two, despite the fact that it was clear she was much shorter than that.”

“I like the word prevaricate.”

“I’m studying for the SAT early. In any case, despite the fact that Princess Rachel was an unfathomably short prevaricator, at least with respect to her height, Princess Quinn decided--”

“Although in terms of synonyms for lying, I prefer mendacious”

“ _Anyway_ , Princess Quinn decided that she liked Princess Rachel anyway because Princess Rachel was reliably entertaining. Then one day, Princess Rachel and Princess Quinn got eight hours of sleep, and a joyful time was had by all the next day. Princess Rachel thanked Princess Quinn for her infinite patience with an origami swan. The End.”

Rachel chuckled, and she really did feel better. She yawned and she knew it was audible. She blushed and covered her mouth.

“Feeling sleepy again?” Quinn asked softly.

Rachel smiled and laughed softly. “Yes. Thanks.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” Rachel murmured. “Just a frustrating case of insomnia.”

“Glad I could help.”

“Me too,” Rachel sighed. It was such a relief to feel like she could go to sleep again. “Thank you. Good night, Quinn.”

“Good night, Rach.”

\--

Rachel walked into school that morning and saw Quinn at her locker. She grinned and approached her. She stood directly behind Quinn, put her right hand on Quinn’s back and leaned her head to poke around to the left side of Quinn’s head. “Hey,” Rachel murmured, laying her palm flat to present the origami swan in her hand.

Quinn stared down at it and laughed softly. “Thanks,” she said, plucking it out of Rachel’s hand. She laid it flat in her palm and stared at it. “He’s cute.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “He looks like every other origami swan.”

“He’s still cute.”

Rachel laughed. “Come on,” she drawled. “I’ll walk you to class.”

Quinn snorted. “You’re in the same class.”

Rachel smiled, tugged at the book Quinn was carrying and pulled it away. “I’ll carry your book then.”

Quinn smiled back. “Well, I think it’s the least you could do,” she joked.

Rachel grinned at her and linked arms with Quinn as they walked together to their first period class. Rachel walked Quinn to her seat and deposited Quinn’s textbook on her desk. She gave Quinn a crooked smile and then backed away to take her seat.

\--

Rachel was distracted through class and she couldn’t concentrate on what Mr. Varela was saying until she heard her phone buzzing in her bag. She didn’t want to call attention to herself, so she hurried to pull her phone out. She checked it, only to see a text from Quinn. She looked at Quinn questioningly before checking to see what the message read. Quinn smiled at her and leaned forward slightly in her seat, peering closely at her. Rachel smiled again and looked down at the message.

_Pay Attention_

Rachel made a face and glared at Quinn who smiled. Rachel couldn’t help chuckling softly.

Mr. Varela cleared his throat and Rachel guiltily looked at him. He gestured with his head for her to put her phone away and she blushed and complied.

When Rachel looked back at Quinn, Quinn was laughing softly.

Rachel opened her binder, quietly ripped out a sheet of three-hole punched paper, opened up her pencil case to pull out a black felt-tip marker and wrote **YOU ARE DEAD TO ME!** as largely as she could write it. She held it up to Quinn, who read it and made a sad face, though Rachel knew the difference between Quinn’s genuine sad face and her fake sad face, and Quinn’s sad face at that moment was decidedly fake.

Rachel smiled and blew Quinn a kiss.

\--

After that day, Rachel got into the habit of making one paper swan for Quinn before she left her house for school. She had a few sheets of actual origami paper that her daddy got for her while he was in Japan a few years ago and she went through that first, before she just moved onto ordinary pieces of paper in different colors. She wasn’t really into origami-- other than the swan, the only other thing she could make were little stars, but stars were her thing, not Quinn’s. Once Quinn referenced the origami swan, Rachel couldn’t help making them.

It started to become a ritual-- any day she saw Quinn, which really, was becoming every day, not just every school day, she greeted Quinn at her locker. She put her right hand on Quinn’s back and swung around so that she peeked around and looked at Quinn from the left, and presented the origami swan to Quinn in the flattened palm of her left hand.

Rachel wasn’t sure what Quinn was doing with them-- she could be crushing them under foot or throwing them away, although she did spot a small pile of them on Quinn’s nightstand and the pile seemed to be growing every time she saw it. But it was her way of thanking Quinn for her patience, just like in Quinn’s story, because Rachel knew that sometimes, people needed patience in dealing with her.

\--

They went to Nationals that year and placed second. Rachel had to admit she was disappointed, but she was also glad New Directions actually made it that far.

When the announcements came, Quinn grabbed her into a tight hug, picked her up so that the tips of her toes touched the ground and spun her around. Quinn set her down and Rachel laughed and reached for Quinn again, but was quickly pulled by her waist into Finn’s arms. Rachel looked at Quinn apologetically as Finn hugged her and then passed her to Noah as though she were a rag doll. Quinn looked distinctly displeased and Rachel thought about how nice it was to have a friend who would be outraged on her behalf.

\--

They celebrated their win together as a club that night, and Rachel enjoyed herself because she was happy with making second place. She would, of course, have been happier if they’d actually won, but that just made her more motivated for next year. Next year would be her last chance and she planned to take that trophy home to McKinley.

So she was happy to celebrate with her teammates, but she’d figured out that just because they were her teammates did not mean they were her friends. It was a distinction that took her some time to distinguish, since she did not have much experience in true friendship. So, the best part of celebrating placing at Nationals came when they were back home, and she got to celebrate it with Quinn, Santana and Brittany.

None of them were people who Rachel ever thought would be her friend. If she were honest with herself, she really hadn’t wanted to be friends with them since they’d built a lot of mutual hostility. But somehow they’d seen more in her than they’d previously thought and she saw more in them than she’d previously thought, and it all worked out.

\--

Alcohol tended to play a role when Santana and Brittany were involved. Santana and Brittany drank more than she and Quinn did, generally because there were none of the substance abuse problems in Santana and Brittany’s families that ran in hers and Quinn’s families so they weren’t anxious about it the way Rachel and Quinn were.

Still, the warm buzz she had as she, Quinn, Santana and Brittany sprawled out on a blanket in her backyard on a warm June night felt undeniably nice. Daddy was still in California and Dad was working a shift at the hospital, so she didn’t anticipate Dad coming home any time soon.

They passed a bottle of Moscato wine between the four of them, drinking straight from the bottle. Most of the time Rachel would have been opposed and would have insisted on separate glasses because sharing with one person was one thing, but sharing with three other girls seemed like an invitation to germs, bacteria and possible one of the Hepatitises. The last one seemed kind of insulting, so she didn’t voice that out loud and it wasn’t serious concern anyway. She was just too happy.

They finished that bottle of wine and went through four more bottles which Rachel knew neither of her fathers would ever miss considering how much alcohol they kept in the house. She felt warm and squishy and genuinely happy for the first time in a long time.

She sighed softly. She couldn’t believe how quickly the school year passed. They just had one more week until the school year was over and then she was free for the summer. She made a mental list of all the things she wanted to do over the summer and wished she had a pen and sheet of paper to write them down, but she knew her friends would mock her for being uptight, so she refrained. Anyway, her mood felt way too good to concern herself with stuff like her summer to-do list.

The temperature outside dropped to a degree that was no longer comfortable in their shorts and tanktops and so they went inside and walked up to her bedroom. They fell into a drunken pile on her bed

She woke up early the next morning sprawled in between Quinn and Santana with Brittany lying practically horizontally across all of them. Her back was cramped and her neck was sore, but she didn’t mind. She was, however pretty thirsty and so she somehow finagled her way out from underneath Brittany and away from Quinn and Santana.

“Rachel, get back here,” Brittany murmured. “You’re really comfortable.”

“I’m just getting some water.”

“Get some for me, too, bitch,” Santana murmured.

“Me too,” Quinn said.

“And me,” Brittany said.

Rachel sighed. “I hate you all,” she grumbled.

\--

She filled her glass with water and took a long gulp. She drank nearly an entire bottle of wine on her own, and she didn’t feel that drunk last night, but she was definitely feeling it now. She wasn’t hungover, just sort of dehydrated. She felt okay.

Her life wasn’t the way she’d imagined it would be when she was younger-- it was worse in some respects and better in others, so it’d more or less evened out. She’d always wanted things too much and tended to want things she knew she couldn’t have or were out of reach for her, but she just wanted anyway, in spite of reason or rationality.

She’d lived most of her life for the future-- she didn’t care so much about her present, even when circumstances were difficult, because her focus was always on what was to come. It’s not that she was indifferent to the fact that other people didn’t like her-- she _wanted_ to be liked, but she just didn’t think she had much of a chance of that in Lima. Her earliest memories were of other parents being mean to her fathers in the park, at the grocery store, at school or daycare or at the pediatrician’s office. Kids’ parents didn’t like her fathers and so she didn’t like those people’s kids.

She was still living for the future, especially because the future seemed so _close_. All she had was one more year of high school to tough out and then her life could _really_ start.

She’d started the countdown at the beginning of grade five, the last year of primary school because that was the year she could finally understand there was an end in sight. Every school year that passed, she ticked off another year. One year less until she could escape Lima and really start her life and she’d leave it all behind and start fresh and new. Maybe she wouldn’t have loads and loads of friends, maybe life wouldn’t be one big party at which she was the center, maybe all her dreams weren’t waiting in line to come true (God forbid), but she was sure life out _there_ was better than life _here_.

But with one school year left to go, she was staring to lose focus and concentrate a little more on the present. She still had her gaze mainly on the future, but now, she woke up in the morning and she kind of enjoyed her day rather than checking off her to-do list of things she had to accomplish in order to make herself a better performer or become a better candidate for Julliard or God only knew what else. She was starting to realize she had to find joy in the simpler, smaller things. She wanted things too much, which was why she was constantly disappointed, so she neglected to see all those times when she got things she wanted, but took it for granted.

“What the hell is taking you so long?” Santana demanded as she ambled into the kitchen.

Rachel turned to look at her and smiled.

“Brit and Q thought you couldn’t carry everything up the stairs so they sent me to help you. You’re just standing there like an idiot. Are you having an aneurysm or something?”

Rachel contemplated theatrically falling to the ground and faking her own death. It would certainly be a good acting exercise to aim for spontaneity, ad-libbing and credibility, but she simply didn’t have the energy to fall to the ground. And anyway, she was holding a glass, which was actually made of glass and not plastic or whatever.

“Don’t just stand there with a dumb look on your face. Let’s go back to bed.”

“Okay.”

Santana helped her fill the three other glasses of water. Santana filled hers and drained it and then filed it again.

“Don’t drink so much that you have to pee,” Rachel warned. “If you urinate on my bed, you’re buying me a new one.”

Santana scowled. “I’m potty-trained, are you?” She smacked Rachel on the butt.

Rachel actually had a fairly big tank for someone so small because she was accustomed to holding it after her fathers gave her one too many glasses of water to drink.

Rachel kicked her away. “Don’t you hate it when you need to use the restroom, but one is not immediately available, and all you can think about is waterfalls, the ocean, the Hoover Dam, rain, lakes, estuaries, babbling brooks--”

“ _You’re_ a babbling brook.”

Rachel was undeterred. “Streams, rivers, ponds, melting ice caps, reservoirs, fjords,” Rachel went on. “Puddles.” She grinned when she saw a strange look cross Santana’s face.

“I hate you,” Santana said, setting the glasses of water on the counter. “Wait for me,” she said. She leaned toward Rachel and gave her a quick kiss on the mouth before she ran off to use the downstairs bathroom.

Rachel bit back a snort of laughter. Santana was soft. She seemed hard and tough, and she was, but ultimately, she was soft. Rachel didn’t like being outsized (she _hated_ being so short) and she didn’t like being intimidated, especially by other girls, so it was always nice to find out people like Santana or Quinn or Brittany were nowhere near as intimidating as the image they projected.

She waited for Santana to come back and then they went back to her room. Brittany and Quinn were talking quietly when Rachel and Santana entered.

Brittany and Santana could have easily left to the guest room, but they didn’t. They were all too drunk the night before to really care, but they were sober now.

They just piled back into her bed, which wasn’t particularly big, but the window was open a crack and the day was overcast-- a touch of June gloom, apparently, and it wasn’t so much crowded as it was cozy. She never thought she’d enjoy sharing one bed with three other girls, particularly because it sounded like the beginnings of raunchy joke akin to one of those too-many-clowns-in-a-car jokes, but it wasn’t so bad.

She fought to sleep on the edges, but since she was the smallest, she had to go in the middle.

“The smallest person always rides bitch, Berry,” Santana told her.

The joke was on Santana, however, because since she was deemed to be smaller than Brittany or Quinn, she had to go into the middle as well.

“This means noting,” Santana groused.

Rachel was almost asleep when her phone rang. She recognized the ring tone immediately. Tay.

She sat up quickly, on pure instinct, ignoring the way the other girls grumbled and protested. She was frozen for a moment, staring in direction of her phone sitting on her desk. She wanted to answer it, but at the same time, she didn’t. Her life was just easier when she wasn’t in touch with Taylor, even though it made her sad. She didn’t want to be the kind of person who took the easy way out though. It rang twice and she realized that she was sad when she talked to Taylor, she was sad when she didn’t, so she might as well talk to Taylor. She stood up in her bed and leaped off it, jumping across Santana and Brittany and landing hard on the ground. She stumbled slightly into her desk, but she grabbed her phone before it could go to voicemail.

“Don’t hang up!” she begged. “Give me a sec.”

She ran out of the room, her phone to her ear.

\--  
They talked very briefly-- Taylor congratulated her on Nationals and after that there was very little else to talk about

She’d started to feel more distant from Taylor. Rachel still loved her, but she didn’t feel the same joy anymore when Taylor called her. Now the dread significantly outweighed the joy and in all honesty, she was more weary than afraid of Taylor now.

“Tay?” Rachel asked quietly. “Do you call me because you want to call me or because you want to make sure I keep my mouth shut?”

“Why are you asking me this?”

“Because I feel like it’s the second one and I want you to know you’re not obliged to talk to me. I’ll _never_ tell on you. I never told on you back then and we didn’t talk for a really long time and I didn’t tell _anyone_. I’m not going to tell now. You don’t have to keep checking up on me.”

She’d thought a lot about it, and although there were a few variations on their conversations, generally speaking, all of their conversations revolved significantly around the fact that she needed to keep her mouth shut. It was honestly kind of under her skin because Taylor just refused to let it go, and while Rachel wanted to hold onto the memories of the time she spent with Taylor before Taylor moved to Japan, she desperately wanted to forget about her time with Taylor when they were younger.

She’d tried to bury it for as long as she could remember, and however well-intentioned Taylor might be, Taylor was making it hard for Rachel to forget.

“I just miss you,” Taylor said quietly. “I’m far from home and I miss my girl.”

Rachel paused. “Oh,” she said softly. “I’m still your girl?”

“You’ll always be my girl, Rach.”

Rachel swallowed hard. “Oh,” she murmured. “Then…can you do me a favor?”

“Okay?”

“I don’t want to think about what happened between us a long time ago anymore,” Rachel said quietly. “It happened and it’s done. You’re right. It won’t change the past. Can’t we just pretend it didn’t happen and move on?”

Taylor was quiet a long time before she answered. “Okay.”

“Then please stop reminding me not to tell,” Rachel whispered. “Because I won’t. I know what would happen if I did. I remember what you told me, so please stop, okay?”

Taylor’s breath was shaky. “Okay.

“You don’t have to call me anymore just to make sure I keep my mouth shut,” Rachel said quietly. “I never really deluded myself into believing that you actually wanted to talk to me, you know. But it was nice to believe it, even just a little bit. I kept quiet before we started talking again and I’ll continue to keep quiet. But you’re under no obligation to talk to me.”

“I really do love you, Rach. But I have been calling you a little too much.”

“Thank you for calling today though,” Rachel said. “It means a lot.”

“I wish I could have seen you guys. Did your dads show up?”

Rachel snorted. “Why would they? Daddy’s still in California. He’s not calling me back.”

“Still?” Taylor asked quietly. “I’m sorry, little one. You were always a good kid, Rach,” Taylor murmured. “They should have been around more.”

Rachel smiled, but she didn’t quite feel it. “But then I wouldn’t have had you.”

“I know I need to stay away from you, but I can’t.”

“That’s okay,” Rachel said quietly. “I don’t think I could stay away from you for very long anyway.”

She was trying to have some resolve when it came to Taylor because she needed some kind of resolution to their relationship, but sometimes it just felt so impossible because she didn’t know what she wanted. She faced the wall and rested her forehead against it, clutching her phone tightly in her hand at her side.

She took a deep breath to regroup and then walked back into her bedroom and rejoined her friends. She ran and jumped into the bed, flopping onto them. They groaned and protested, but she reminded them they could always go home. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was Quinn demanding how her feet could be so cold in June and to get those icicles away from her. Rachel pulled her feet closer toward Santana who groused that feet were fucking gross, but Quinn was a histrionic bitch.

\--

They woke up again a few hours later and went out to a late breakfast-- really more of an early lunch. They were alert enough by that point to ask her pointed questions about the phone call, but Rachel quickly grabbed her phone to clear out the phone log. She didn’t care if she now gave them the impression she was secretly dating someone as long as they never figured out the identity of that person.

She came home to an empty house and she honestly felt a little lonely, which was unusual for her because she was accustomed to being alone and even liked it.

She was restless, bored and unable to entertain herself. She’d always been able do something or find something to occupy her time, but she didn’t feel like doing anything.

She was relieved and glad when she received the text from Quinn.

 _Come over. I’m bored. Entertain me_.

\--

Twenty minutes later, she showed up at Quinn’s door and held an origami swan in her palm

“Hey, partner,” Rachel drawled.

Quinn smiled. “Hey, partner,” she murmured, plucking the swan out of Rachel’s hand with one hand and grabbing Rachel by the wrist in the other. “What took you so long?” Quinn joked. “You know I don’t like to be kept waiting,” she said as they walked to her room. She didn’t drop Rachel’s wrist until they flopped onto the bed together.

Rachel smiled when she saw the pile of origami swans she’d made for Quinn on her nightstand and watched as Quinn added the new one to his paper siblings.

Rachel chuckled. “I apologize profusely,” she murmured. “You know I don’t like to keep you waiting.”

Quinn smiled. “Good.”

“Because you’re really scary when you’re kept waiting,” Rachel continued, biting back a laugh. “Last week when I asked you to wait fifteen minutes so I could go to the gas station before we went to eat, I thought you were going to eat my arm.”

Quinn was indignant. “I was _hungry_!”

Rachel managed to keep a straight face. “You yelled at a homeless man.”

“I only told him to get a job!”

“And you yelled while you did it,” Rachel said with a laugh.

In truth, the guy had been pretty annoying and persistent in asking them for money. Neither of them had any cash and Quinn became fed up enough to tell him, “you want some money?! Get a job for an hour!” in a moment of impatient hilarity. Quinn was just one of those people who had to be fed immediately when she was hungry. Rachel wondered if Quinn had always been that way, or if it was some side effect of pregnancy, since from what she could see, pregnant women had a low tolerance for frustration when it came to hunger.

“I raised my voice!”

“You’re scary when you’re hungry. _My_ personality doesn’t change when _I’m_ hungry.”

“That’s because _your_ default personality is scary. You’re this midget on crystal meth.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “How much experience have you had with crystal meth?”

“How much have you?” Quinn shot back.

A lot, actually. Not first-hand, of course. But she knew what the drug was like from seeing its effects on Daddy, though his drug of choice was cocaine.

“Mmm,” Rachel said noncommittally. She looked away and turned her attention to the television.

Quinn did a double take. “Crap,” she cursed softly. “Rachel, I’m sorry. I forgot about your dad and--”

“It’s fine,” Rachel said quickly.”I mean, he’s…” she trailed off and shrugged. “It is what it is.”

She was worried about him, but he was an adult and if this is what he chose for his life, there was nothing she could do about it. She was powerless when it came to him and she’d long realized that nothing she did could make him change.

“I didn’t mean to…offend you or whatever.”

“You didn’t,” Rachel swore. She smiled at Quinn. “In any case, you are very frightening when you are hungry. I am contemplating always having some type of snack food available to stave off your hunger and the possible dismemberment of yourself or others.”

Quinn smiled. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you started carrying around a five course meal in your purse packed in some very compact container. Your bag is like Mary Poppins’s purse.”

“She was just very prepared, Quinn. I admire that quality in flying nannies. I also find it very pragmatic to carry a umbrella at all times regardless of weather conditions because umbrellas can also be used to shade one from the sun just as much as an umbrella can shield one from rain. The fact she would carry an object of multiple use indicates a critical thinker prepared for anything.”

Quinn bit her lip, clearly amused but trying not to laugh. “It is a very admirable quality,” she said soberly.

Rachel blushed and laughed. For obvious reasons, she’d always had a curiosity about babysitters and nannies, though the curiosity tended to be more clinical than titillating. But it was nice to have a friend who humored her

\--

The school year ended on a high note because Rachel was still riding the wave of joy she felt that her team made it to Nationals and placed. Junior year was better than all the other school years that came before it, and she felt excitement and anticipation for the freedom of summer and some hope and optimism for the school year that was still to come.

\--

A few weeks into summer vacation, Rachel woke up at 3am to her phone buzzing. It was Quinn and Rachel just had a _feeling_.

“Quinn?”

Quinn was sobbing hysterically. It took ten minutes of Quinn crying before she could calm down to speak.

“My dad died.”

\--

Judy Fabray answered the door when Rachel arrived at the house. Judy always looked so classy and put-together, but it was 3:15am and Judy was wearing pajamas and no make-up. Judy opened the door, stared a moment at Rachel and then burst into huge sobs. She grabbed Rachel into a tight hug and buried her face into Rachel’s shoulders and cried for a few minutes while Rachel held Mrs. Fabray and comforted her the best she could. Rachel held her until Judy pulled away and quietly apologized.

“It’s okay,” Rachel said softly. “Are you all right? Can I get you anything?”

“No,” Judy said quietly. “I’m fine. Thank you. Quinn is in her room.”

“All right,” Rachel said. She walked away slowly, turning back intermittently to make sure that Judy was okay. Finally, she got to Quinn’s closed bedroom door. She took a deep breath, knocked three times in quick succession and entered without waiting for a response.

Quinn was curled up in her bed, sheet and comforter over her head.

Rachel approached the bed slowly. “Hey, you,” she murmured softly. She pulled the comforter up and her heart clenched and a lump rose in her throat when she saw the look on Quinn’s face. Quinn’s face was red and swollen from crying, as were her blood-shot eyes. “Hi, honey,” Rachel crooned, crawling into the bed and pulling Quinn into her arms before pulling the sheet and comforter over their heads. “I’m right here, whatever you need.”

Quinn didn’t say anything, but she cried harder and Quinn clung to her fiercely. The blonde buried her face into Rachel’s shoulder. Rachel stroked Quinn’s hair. “I am so sorry, sweetheart,” Rachel murmured into Quinn’s ear.”I know it doesn’t meant anything to you right now, but I’m here. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I’ll do it.”

Rachel didn’t expect Quinn to say anything-- if one of her fathers died, she wouldn’t want to make nice with anyone either.

She just held Quinn as she cried. Rachel wasn’t sure how much time passed, but Quinn eventually stopped crying.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Quinn said quietly, breaking their hug and pulling away. She sat up and left the room so quickly that Rachel didn’t have a response.

Quinn was gone for a while-- long enough that Rachel got a little concerned, but just when Rachel told herself she would give Quinn two more minutes before she started to look for her, Quinn came back.

“Thanks,” Quinn said quietly.

“Of course,” Rachel murmured.

“Will you stay for a while?” Quinn asked, getting back into her bed.

Rachel climbed in beside her. “I’m yours,” she breathed softly into Quinn’s ear as she pulled Quinn close.

Quinn started to cry again.

\--

Two days later, Quinn was mostly composed, but still cried intermittently. Rachel stayed primarily at the Fabray house in Quinn’s room and in Quinn’s bed, since the blonde didn’t seem to want to be left alone anywhere other than the bathroom.

“Rach?” Quinn asked quietly, while they were huddled under Quinn’s comforter.

“Yes?”

“I have to pick up Taylor from the airport tonight. Will you come with me?”

Rachel heart’s seized at the mention of Taylor’s name. She’d completely forgotten about Taylor and truth be told, she didn’t want to see Taylor. Taylor was still a source of confusion and fear. But Quinn rarely asked anything of her-- in that moment, she couldn’t remember Quinn ever asking her for anything, but Rachel could think of a multitude of times she’d made demands on Quinn. She pushed aside her ambivalent feelings for Taylor.

“Of course,” Rachel murmured, brushing a kiss to Quinn’s forehead. “I’ll drive, okay? You just sit and relax, sweetheart.”

\--

Rachel watched as Taylor pulled Quinn into a tight hug.

The two sisters clung to one another and sobbed. Rachel stayed off to the side and tried to stay out of their way until Taylor turned to her. Taylor approached her, reached for her and grabbed her into a hug. “Hi, little one,” Taylor whispered, her breath so hot against Rachel’s ear. “Thank you for being here. I love you so much.”

Rachel swallowed hard. “I love you, too,” she whispered.

\--

The first night Taylor was home, Rachel went to sleep in Quinn’s bed.

The second night Taylor was home, Rachel stayed with Quinn in her bed until the blonde was asleep and then crept into Taylor’s room the way she was told to.

She didn’t really want to, but she didn’t protest or refuse either. Taylor seemed like she really needed it.

“Come on, baby,” Taylor whispered. “Don’t you want this?”

She didn’t, really. It felt wrong. Quinn really needed her and it didn’t feel right that she stayed with Quinn until Quinn fell asleep and then crept into Taylor’s room to have sex.

She couldn’t seem to respond the way Taylor wanted her to, because Taylor got angry and upset. Rachel didn’t blame her-- she’d just lost her father, after all, but then Taylor slapped her. Not hard, but just enough to shock Rachel a little. Rachel swallowed hard.

“Stop fucking crying, you little bitch,” Taylor hissed. “It was my dad who died, not yours.”

Rachel tried to tell herself to stop crying, to stop making Taylor mad because Taylor was sad and grieving after losing her father and everyone grieved in different ways. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and tried to relax.

She couldn’t make herself stop crying as she writhed and whimpered underneath Taylor. Taylor just seemed so sad and angry and Rachel just couldn’t stop crying until she started to pretend Taylor was someone else. Taylor was a little taller than Quinn, but otherwise, she had a similar body type and her hair was soft like Quinn, and they even smelled alike. Rachel shut her eyes and turned her head away from Taylor’s neck. Taylor wasn’t Quinn, but she was close enough and Rachel could pretend that she was as comfortable with Taylor as she was with Quinn.

‘Oh God,’ Rachel thought. How could she have gone there, even mentally? Oh _God_ , it was so wrong and so sick. _She_ was wrong and sick

“Rachel,” Taylor sobbed. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything. It’s okay now, little one. He’s gone now. It’s all going to be okay now.”

Rachel wasn’t sure what Taylor was talking about. She pretended not to hear.

Rachel stroked Taylor’s hair. Now that Taylor was soft, sweet and Taylor again, Rachel had stopped pretending. “It’s okay,” Rachel murmured. “We didn’t do anything wrong.” (She didn’t actually believe that.) “I love you,” Rachel crooned softly, hugging Taylor tightly, and pressing kisses to Taylor’s forehead, eyelids, cheeks, and lips the way Taylor used to comfort her with kisses when Rachel was younger. “Just tell me what you want me to do,” Rachel whispered.

It seemed to appease Taylor, because the death grip Taylor had around Rachel’s arms loosened.

“I’m so sorry,” Taylor cried, pressing her forehead against Rachel’s. “God, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Rachel whispered. She stayed with Taylor while Taylor eventually cried herself to sleep and then gently pulled away.

She didn’t feel like she could go back to Quinn’s room or Quinn’s bed and so she walked down the stairs and left the house. She got into the backseat of her car and curled up. She took a few harsh breaths and tried to calm herself down, berating herself for her weakness.

She must have fallen asleep because the next thing she was aware of was the sun beating down on her through the car windows and Quinn tapping insistently on the window.

Rachel was disoriented as she stumbled out of her car and peered up, squinting against the morning light.

Quinn looked despondent and upset. “Why did you leave? I thought you went home without telling me,” Quinn said, her voice becoming a little harsher and a little shriller with every word.

Rachel suppressed a wince. Quinn could still be so intimidating sometimes. Rachel tried to appease her as quickly as possible. “I’m sorry,” Rachel said softly.

“I really needed you, and you weren’t there.”

“I’m sorry,” Rachel whispered again, pulling Quinn into a hug. “I won’t leave again, I’m sorry.”

Quinn started to sob a little more brokenly and Rachel never had to explain why she’d left because Quinn never asked again. It was a relief.

After that, she kept her promise. She stayed with Quinn until Quinn fell asleep and then she was expected to stay with… to _be_ with Taylor until Taylor fell asleep. Rachel felt filthy and she hated herself for it, but she had no choice-- she promised each of them she’d do what they wanted her to do, and be who they wanted her to be. But it was undeniable to her that it felt wrong to have sex with Taylor and return to Quinn’s bed. It was so so _wrong_ and she knew if Quinn ever found out, Quinn would be appalled and disgusted and they would never be friends again.

“This will always be our secret, right, baby?” Taylor whispered.

“Right,” Rachel whispered, and she knew now that she had just as much of an investment into keeping things a secret as Taylor did.

\--

A week after Quinn’s father died, they had the funeral and she stood behind Quinn, Taylor and their mother as the coffin was lowered down.

\--

The rest of the summer was somber. Taylor stayed in Lima for the rest of the summer and Rachel divided her time between Quinn and Taylor-- her afternoons with Quinn and her nights with Taylor. She spent nearly every waking moment with the Fabray family and they become her priority over everyone and anything else. Both Taylor and Quinn seemed to be coping a little better as time went on and it just made things a little easier. It tore her apart to be split that way, but at least Quinn and Taylor seemed better and happier and it was the only way she could think of to give both Taylor and Quinn what they seemed to want and need, even if she got kind of disgusted with herself. She wasn’t sure why that felt so wrong-- Quinn was just her friend and Taylor was… Taylor, but it did feel wrong. She was being pulled apart, but she got used to it-- to the point where she started to fall in love with Taylor again and resigned herself that maybe this was just the way her life would be.

And then one day, Rachel woke up and Taylor was gone.

 _It’s better this way_.

Rachel Berry was broken up with via text message and like with everything Taylor had put her through, first Rachel Berry was depressed, then she was angry and finally, she was accepting.

She loved Taylor, but she’d come to realize this was just who Taylor was.


	7. Chapter 7

  
When her father died, Quinn felt so much grief for the father she lost and regret that they’d never been able to repair what they once had. When she was little, he was the star of her life, who spoiled her and protected her from even the gentlest punishments from her mother. She was the youngest and the stereotype of spoiled favored younger child.

After she disappointed him, she could never regain his love and while she tried to comfort herself with the belief that he was unreasonable or awful, it still didn’t diminish the feelings of loss.

Now he was dead and she would never regain his love or trust again.

\--

He wasn’t a perfect person or a perfect father. He had high expectations-- sometimes so high that they were unreasonable. He had his faults-- both public and private, but he was still her father and she would miss him and lament the chances she would never have with him now.

\--

If it weren’t for Rachel, Quinn was fairly certain she would have gone insane. She knew she demanded more of Rachel’s time than what was fair for a friend, but she just couldn’t help it. Whatever she needed or asked for, Rachel just did it or gave it. Sometimes, she didn’t even have to ask, Rachel just seemed to know and anticipate Quinn’s needs. She even dragged Rachel with her to a few of the appointments with the therapist her mother insisted she see because her father’s death was so sudden.

Things were somber for the rest of the summer. Quinn had her mother and her sister with her, and of course she had Rachel and other friends, but it was still a summer that was much more somber and serious than she’d anticipated when it started.

Taylor left abruptly one night without much explanation other than that she needed to leave and go back to Jeff if she had any hope of saving her marriage. Quinn didn’t understand that because if he were any kind of husband, he’d understand. Not only would he understand, but he would have come back with her. Jeffrey was kind of a schmuck and Quinn wished Taylor had found someone a little more…suitable.

\--

The clichés about grieving and mourning were true-- it got better and by the time school resumed, Quinn wasn’t _over_ it, but things were better.

\--

Rachel picked her up on the first day of school. She called to say she was in front of the house, and Quinn grabbed her bag and ran down the stairs, shouting to her mother to have a good day.

There was no particular reason Rachel was picking Quinn up-- Quinn’s car was fine and it’s not like she had a physical ailment to prevent her from driving. But Rachel seemed sweetly solicitous the night before when she offered to pick Quinn up, and really, why the hell not?

“Hey little girl,” Rachel drawled in her best imitation of a cowboy as she rolled down the passenger side window to call out a greeting. “Are you going my way?”

Quinn chuckled. “You’re an idiot,” she said fondly, because Rachel was trying to imitate those gross men who called out lewd comments and whistled while they passed women walking along the street, but Rachel sounded mostly like she actually wanted to know the answer to the question. But then again, it was that sincere earnestness that she’d come to love most in Rachel. She got into the passenger seat. “Hi,” she murmured, leaning in to give Rachel a cheek kiss.

“Hi,” Rachel said softly. “Are you ready for today?”

Quinn shrugged. “It’s like any other first day of school.”

“I meant because…” Rachel trailed off. “The first day of school can be taxing,” she said finally, “since it’s an adjustment to a more relaxed schedule to which we’ve become accustomed.”

Quinn fought a smile, because most of her summer was spent sitting around lazily in the afternoon (she took a lot of naps), drinking heavily with Santana and Brittany while Rachel played concerned designated driver at night and curling up, in tears, late at night, next to Rachel. It would be an adjustment, the way first days of school always were from the less restrictive days of summer, but Quinn was actually looking forward to going back to routine.

“I’m good,” Quinn said.

Rachel smiled. “Okay, then.” She plucked a origami swan from her dashboard and presented it to Quinn with a smile. “Here,” she drawled. “A little routine.”

Quinn smiled and took it. At first, she just set these little origami swans on her nightstand. But Rachel had given her so many of them, and Quinn just couldn’t resist saving every single one. After all, what was she supposed to do? Throw them away? Take a bath with them and pretend they floated like a rubber duck? Toss them from a window to make them fly? So she kept them because she wanted to. Her little swan family grew to the point that Brittany and Santana mocked her for it, her mother commented on it and her sister told her that Rachel had taught her how to do that when Rachel was seven. She’d collected so many of them, nearly sixty of them that she bought a glass container to hold them in.

“A return to normalcy,” she murmured, she said, with a smile, because the phrase had been brought up in their AP US History class last year when studying about life in the US post World War I.

Rachel chuckled. “Right,” she said. She put her car into ‘drive’ and then started the very brief commute to school.  
  
They were quiet for a while as Rachel drove-- they were about four blocks away from the school and Quinn was ready to say something, anything to break the silence. It was an easy, comfortable silence, but she just liked it better when Rachel talked (who would have _ever_ thought that could ever be the case?) Then her phone rang.

Quinn dug it out of her purse and smiled when she saw it was Taylor.

“Hey!” Quinn exclaimed. “I’m with Rachel, say hi to her,” she said, not waiting for Taylor to respond. She held the phone to Rachel’s ear.

“Quinn, I’m driving,” Rachel protested.

“So? You’re hands-free.”

“Hello,” Rachel murmured quietly into the phone. “I’m well, thank you. How are you?” Rachel paused for a few moments and grinned. “Wonderful,” she said softly. “I’m going to have Quinn stop distracting me now.”

Quinn gave her a look and slapped Rachel’s thigh, but she settled into the seat to talk to Taylor.

“Hey,” Quinn said. “What’s up?”

Taylor laughed. “I just wanted to wish my little sister good luck on her first day of her last year of high school.”

“You’ve never cared enough to call me on the first day of school before,” Quinn teased. Actually, sometimes her sister did, but most years, Taylor didn’t.

“Well, this is kind of a big one,” Taylor said. “Anyway, I just wanted to check in with you, kiddo. Everything good?”

“I guess we’ll see.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Quinn said. “Are you?”

“Yeah. Anyway. I’m going to let you go. Have a great day and tell Rachel that, too.”

“Okay, you too.”

Taylor chuckled. “My day is mostly over. Bye, Q.”

“Bye, Taylor.”

She hung up and by the time she did, they were at school. She turned to look at Rachel. Rachel’s expression was a little too blankly bland, which meant that Rachel was trying to be very deliberate in concealing something. She watched as Rachel bit her lower lip, which the brunette tended to do a lot-- Quinn used to think it was deliberate to bring attention to her provocative mouth and tantalize boys. But now she’d come to realize that Rachel tended to bite her lower lip to express a range of emotions from anger to guilt to being pleased with a sudden turn of events. It was multi-purpose, but difficult to use in terms of getting a read on how Rachel was feeling. Rachel’s face was expressive and she tended to wear her heart on her sleeve but Quinn had come to realize she was fairly tight-lipped about whatever it was that caused those emotions.

“You okay?” Quinn asked.

“Huh?” Rachel said, distractedly. “Of course, Quinn. Why would you ask?”

Quinn shrugged. “Are you nervous?”

Rachel didn’t have the most positive associations with school, after all.

Rachel smiled. “No,” she said softly. “Let’s go.”

\--

The first day of school went as expected-- no surprises.

\--

She followed Rachel home after school and they lounged on Rachel’s bed watching a movie. The two of them spent an inordinate amount of time alone together, but it felt nice to have Rachel to herself. Santana had Brittany, after all, and granted they were a couple, but they were best friends first. In the course of less than a year, Rachel Berry had morphed from pint-sized annoyance she was set on destroying to her best friend.

Quinn knew she had sort of a third grade mentality, because she really didn’t like _sharing_ Rachel. Santana and Brittany had become their mutual friends, but there were times when Quinn resented having to share Rachel with Brittany and Santana who already had each other.

As always, they had the house to themselves, but there was just something comforting about Rachel’s room which was truly a reflection of the diva-in-the-making, both of her private and public selves. Rachel may give off the impression that all she cared about her Broadway musicals and future stardom, but there was more to Rachel than that, and her room reflected it.

She’d borrowed multiple books and DVDs from Rachel, and it’d become sort of an inside joke between them because she hadn’t returned anything yet. She had a stack of Rachel’s books and DVDs on her desk at home, which Rachel saw each time she came over, but never took back. There was more to Rachel than just biographies of divas and musicals.

Rachel’s room had become almost like her own, and she lounged freely on the bed, complained about Rachel’s uncomfortable desk chair and rifled through Rachel’s shelves with abandon. She didn’t open any drawers or anything, because that was crossing a line, but she still practiced a freedom with Rachel’s things that she didn’t exercise with her other friends.

She and Rachel sat on the bed next to one another, legs stretched in front of them and backs against the headboard as they watched the movie. Rachel smelled amazing and she started laughing at something in the movie.

Quinn joined in the laughter and Rachel smiled at her. She swatted at Quinn’s thigh and Quinn swore she just meant to stop Rachel from making contact, but she grabbed Rachel by the hand and held on.

She stared at Rachel for a long moment and Rachel stared back before gently pulling her hand away. She scooted over to put some more space between them and they didn’t say anything until the movie ended. When it did, Rachel stood up and stretched.

“Come on,” she said. “I’ll buy you dinner. Something bacony.”

Quinn laughed softly. Rachel could never resist exaggerating Quinn’s love for bacon.

\--

Over the past few months, she’d become aware of a muted attraction to Rachel that she definitely did not want to feel, partly because well, Rachel was a _girl_ , partly because Rachel well, Rachel was _Rachel_ and mostly because Rachel was her best friend and attraction between friends was just the kind of thing to ruin the friendship.

But she also thought the attraction might be mutual.

She’d catch Rachel looking at her, primarily because she was usually already looking at Rachel. Then Rachel would look away and she’d look away and when she looked back at Rachel, Rachel was already staring at her again.

Then there was the way Rachel looked at her mouth. Quinn was accustomed to people looking at her mouth, so she totally noticed it when people did. She had to admit she was looking at Rachel’s mouth, too.

Quinn had friends, but she didn’t have a lot of _close_ friends that she could compare Rachel to. Despite the fact she really didn’t have much for comparison, she thought she and Rachel treated one another differently than other sets of girls who were just friends. The way she interacted with Rachel was a lot like how Santana interacted with Brittany, and those girls had been all over one another since they were playing hopscotch and using big crayons.

It was…confusing.

\--

They had dinner together and then Rachel dropped Quinn off at home.

“See you tomorrow,” Rachel said softly, with a smile. She leaned toward Quinn just as Quinn was doing the same to Rachel. Their noses bumped up against each other.

They each leaned back. Rachel laughed and rubbed her nose.

Quinn giggled. “You okay?”

Rachel laughed. “I’ve told you to avoid my nose when assaulting me!”

Quinn rolled her eyes and slapped Rachel’s shoulder. She leaned in (carefully, this time) and quickly kissed Rachel’s nose. “There,” she said. “I kissed your ouchie, so now stop harassing me about assaulting you.”

Rachel laughed softly, and rubbed at her nose again. “Are you okay?” she asked, peering up at Quinn in concern.

Quinn smiled. “Yeah, I’m not histrionic like you, so I’m not calling that an assault.”

Rachel scowled with mock outrage. “Out of my vehicle, woman!”

Quinn chuckled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Rachel smiled. “Yeah.”

\--

The more time that went on, and the more time she spent with Rachel, the more difficult it became to push down her feelings of attraction. Sometimes, she was sure it was mutual-- it _seemed_ mutual because she didn’t see Rachel making origami swans or giving anyone _else_ ‘just because’ presents. Granted Rachel did make mix CDs for Puck or Finn, but Rachel really did enjoy whoring out her taste in music, so mix CDs didn’t mean much. Quinn knew for a fact that Rachel wasn’t hanging out with anyone as much as Rachel hung out with her because they spent nearly every moment of free time together. One would think spending nearly every free waking hour with a person would get boring, especially since she shared every class with Rachel since the sixth grade, but it really wasn’t.

\--

She started dropping little hints to get an idea of what Rachel might be feeling.

They were watching an Alicia Keys video when Quinn said, “Alicia Keys is so beautiful, I’d totally make out with her.”

She just wanted to see what Rachel would say, but Rachel’s response was frustrating.

“She’s very pretty.”

That was it. No other response. No “oh, you’d kiss a girl? I would, too” or “oh, you’d kiss a girl? I would never do that” or “I’d make out with her, too” or “she’s not my type” or whatever. Just “she’s very pretty” which was blatantly obvious, (God, Rachel).

Rachel was _so_ frustrating.

“Megan Fox has a great body. I wish I had a body like that.”

“Yours is actually better.”

Okay, that one was sort of pleasing. But seriously, come _on_.

They got drunk together one night maybe a month after school resumed and spent the night making a list of people at school they wouldn’t sleep with for all the money in the world (Jacob Ben Israel, Dave Karofsky and Azimo were the only ones who made the list since all the money in the world was nothing to sniff at) and a list of people they would sleep with, without much need for encouragement, if the circumstances were right.

“David Singer.”

“Todd Ambrose.”

“Richard Avakian.”

“Mike Hart.”

“Mike Chang.”

“Megan Kessler.”

Rachel didn’t react. “Scott Bryce.”

“Kyle Parks.”

They went through a few more names. Quinn took special care to only names boys after that, and all the names Rachel rattled off were boys. She decided that Rachel probably just wasn’t into girls. She’d given Rachel enough opportunity to express attraction or curiosity, and Rachel never did. She was disappointed, but she was also kind of relieved. Status quo was easier to deal with than change, and her life had so many changes in the past couple of years, she didn’t mind status quo when the status quo was pretty good.

\--

It was an ordinary October day-- the weather was nice and cool, the air was crisp and all that sort of weather crap that Quinn really didn’t care about outside the fact that she grabbed a jacket when she left the house in the morning. She got separated from Rachel before lunch, even though they were in the same class before lunch. She needed to go to her locker and Rachel needed to check a book out from the library.

Unlike the previous school year, when they only ate lunch together about half the time (the other half Rachel was doing God only knew what), they’d eaten lunch together every school day and nearly every weekend day, too. Quinn walked to the cafeteria first, but couldn’t find Rachel, so she walked toward the library to search for her.

She was turning a corner when she saw Rachel and was ready to call out to her, but she stopped when she saw Brittany and Santana flank her. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t just call out to her friends, but she stepped behind the corner and watched, hidden, as Rachel glanced around the hallway and then turned her attention back to Santana and Brittany.

Santana laughed softly and wrapped her arms around Rachel’s waist and whispered something in Rachel’s ear that made Rachel’s cheeks turn bright red even from Quinn’s standpoint.

And then, Santana kissed Rachel. It wasn’t a peck on the cheek or the forehead the way Rachel kissed her or the way she kissed Rachel. It was a full-on kiss, which didn’t seem to surprise Rachel in the slightest. A full-on kiss in the middle of the hallway. A full-on kiss that Rachel returned eagerly, and while Santana kissed Rachel, _Brittany_ cuddled up to Rachel’s back and began kissing Rachel’s neck. Rachel’s shoulder’s shook slightly in silent laugher and one her hands reached around to cup and caress Brittany’s cheek.

The whole thing only lasted under a minute before Rachel moved away-- reluctantly, it seemed.

“I have to go,” Rachel said. “I need to find Quinn. We’re having lunch together.”

“You guys have lunch together every day,” Santana said.

“So do you and Brittany. Come find us in the cafeteria when you guys are done…” Rachel trailed off and laughed softly. “Well, you know.”

“You’ve been neglecting us, Berry,” Santana said lightly.

Rachel laughed softly again. “I’ll just have to make it up to you, “ she murmured. “Do you take IOUs?”

Santana rolled her eyes. “We’ll see you later.”

Rachel turned to walk away and Quinn swallowed hard and scrambled to take a few steps back so that she was rounding the corner just as Rachel was doing the same from the other side.

Rachel’s eyes were wide. “Hi!” she exclaimed. “I was just looking for you!”

Quinn forced a smile, even though she didn’t really feel like smiling. She didn’t want to let on that she heard and saw everything she just heard and saw and she didn’t like the way Rachel’s eyes were way too wide because it meant Rachel was nervous and trying too hard to cover it up.

“Hi,” Quinn said softly. “Ready for lunch?”

Rachel smiled. “Of course,” she said, reaching for Quinn’s arm and pulling Quinn toward the cafeteria, in opposite direction of where Rachel had just left Brittany and Santana. “Good nutrition is an integral part of maintaining one’s health and of course, studies have shown that a more regimented scheduling of eating is good for one’s metabolism.”

Quinn just let Rachel ramble on, but all she could think about was that all this time, she thought maybe there was a mutual attraction with Rachel, and then she gave up that idea because it seemed like Rachel just wasn’t attracted to other girls. Now she’d just witnessed Santana _and_ Brittany kissing Rachel which _clearly_ meant that Rachel did like girls, Rachel just didn’t like _her_.

With everything that happened between them and how close they’d become, it was so disappointing, Quinn wanted to skip lunch and go somewhere private to cry. But she couldn’t do that because she had Rachel on her arm, babbling about the importance of breakfast (apparently Rachel was going through the importance of each meal of the day now) and pulling her toward the cafeteria to eat lunch together.

\--

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Rachel asked multiple times through lunch.

“Nothing, I’m just tired. I didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

It was a lie. She got at least nine hours of sleep the night before and she’d been in a really good mood until she saw Santana and Brittany mauling Rachel.

Rachel smiled. “You should call me next time you have trouble sleeping,” she murmured, reaching across the table to give Quinn’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ll tell you a story.”

Quinn smiled back as she remembered the night she told Rachel a story off the top of her head to help Rachel go to sleep. That story launched the tradition of Rachel giving her those origami swans. Rachel had given her one every day they saw each other since school started again and now Quinn had over a hundred of them in that glass contained on her nightstand. How the _hell_ could the attraction not be mutual?

“I will next time,” Quinn said softly.

Rachel gave her a toothy grin. “Good,” she declared.

Quinn grinned back at her and she vowed that if Rachel Berry had even an _ounce_ of interest in her, she was going to make Rachel hers.

\--

She always put a lot of time and energy into her appearance, but she started waking up even _earlier_ to put even more time and energy into it.

Rachel seemed to notice right away.

“It’s not that I don’t ordinarily think you’re beautiful, Quinn, but you’re looking _particularly_ lovely today.”

Quinn grinned at her. “Thanks.”

And so on.  
\--

She’d complimented her sister on a particular perfume one day, and her sister bought her a bottle as a gift. Quinn liked it well enough, but it was more something her sister would use than what she would use, so she only wore it a few times before she retired it. But when her sister was home over the summer, she saw Taylor holding her wrist up to Rachel and Rachel sniffing at it and telling Taylor that she liked that perfume.

She started wearing that perfume even more, and it seemed to work because she’d catch Rachel looking at her while chewing on her lower lip. How could that be a bad thing, right?

\--

Rachel’s father went to visit her other father on Thanksgiving. Quinn thought it was truly fucked up that he didn’t take Rachel with him, but Rachel didn’t seem to think so.

“It’s not worth the plane fare for such a brief period of time,” Rachel said, but she did look upset anyway.

Rachel spent Thanksgiving with Quinn and her mom, and though Rachel was vegan and Judy made no vegan alternatives, Rachel ate turkey and butter-and-milk laden mashed potatoes anyway.

Judy fell asleep in her bedroom after one too many dinner-martinis and Quinn grabbed a bottle of wine from the wine cellar and took Rachel by the hand to her bedroom where they lounged on the bed and watched Thanksgiving specials of various sitcoms.

Quinn shut off the TV, her head swimming a little from the wine and snuggled up to Rachel. Rachel laughed softly and wrapped her arms around Quinn so that their foreheads rested together.

“Your mom is a really good cook,” Rachel murmured. “This makes your ability to stay so thin even more impressive.”

Quinn chuckled and she gazed into Rachel’s eyes. “So you’re saying I have a hot body?” she questioned in a drawl. She moved in closer to Rachel so that their hips were almost touching.

Rachel rolled her eyes. “You know that you do,” she said gently, swatting at Quinn’s shoulder. Rachel moved away from Quinn, rolling from her side onto her back and stretched her limbs.

“It’s nice to be told,” Quinn murmured, which was true-- it was nice to be told sometimes.

Rachel turned her head. “You have a hot body,” she said sincerely.

Quinn smiled. “Was that so hard to admit?” she asked, shifting closer to Rachel again.

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “What was there to admit? It was a statement of fact.” Rachel sat up. “Let’s watch a movie,” she said, getting up from the bed and moving toward Quinn’s TV and DVD shelf. “Um. _Ice Age_?”

“What are you, eight years old?” Quinn teased.

Rachel looked the back of the DVD. “This movie actually did come out in 2002,” she remarked. “We turned eight in 2002.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. She had a ton of movies to choose from and Rachel chose a _cartoon_. Sometimes she had to remind herself why she liked Rachel so much, but seeing the way Rachel looked at her with her hip slightly cocked out and that toothy grin, it really wasn’t so hard to remember.

“I have _Mr. and Mrs. Smith_ ,” Quinn said. “Let’s watch that.”

Rachel looked like she wanted to protest, but she shrugged and popped it in. She rejoined Quinn on the bed and they watched the movie in silence.

“I should go,” Rachel said quietly, once the movie was over. She stood up and peered down at the bed, trying to dig her hands into pockets she didn’t have.

“Why don’t you stay the night?” Quinn murmured. “My mom will wonder why you’re gone. She likes having you around, you know. The more people around her, the happier she is.”

“I shouldn’t,” Rachel said softly.

“Why not?”

“I should go home,” Rachel said. “My dads might try to call me.”

Quinn opened her mouth, ready to point out that Rachel had a cell phone and her fathers could always reach her on that if they wanted to talk to her. But Rachel’s relationship with her fathers was more complicated and Quinn had a limited understanding of it because Rachel didn’t talk about it much. She didn’t want to burst Rachel’s bubble, not when Rachel looked so hopeful her fathers would call.

“Okay,” Quinn said softly, rising to her feet. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” she asked as she approached Rachel.

Rachel smiled. “You drank most of the wine, I’ll be fine.”  
  
Quinn chuckled, and she pulled Rachel in for a hug. She didn’t know what she would have done over the summer without this girl. Probably gone crazy or something. “Text me when you get home, okay?” she whispered. She rested her head on Rachel’s shoulder and used her right index finger to lightly trace her initials onto Rachel’s back.

 _QF_.

“Of course,” Rachel murmured. “Don’t I always? Even when you don’t ask me to.”

_QF <3 _

“Just making sure,” Quinn whispered. “It’s Thanksgiving, lots of drunk drivers out there.”

_QF <3 RB_

“I think everyone is too busy engaging in post-meal domestic violence to be out on the road,” Rachel joked.

Rachel’s breath was warm against Quinn’s ear. God, this girl smelled amazing.

Quinn laughed softly and she turned her head ever so slightly. They were just so close.

“Just drive safe, okay?” Quinn murmured. She brushed her nose against Rachel’s.

Rachel’s mouth parted slightly and she let out a tiny whimper. “Quinn,” she breathed.

“Yeah?” Quinn asked softly.

“I...” Rachel’s voice cracked and she fell silent

They stood there for a while, in that bright-lit room. Quinn’s window was open just a crack and there was a slight breeze to counteract the fact Quinn’s mother turned on the heater and the house was just a little too warm. Quinn continued to lightly trace _QF <3 RB_ on Rachel’s back and Rachel was gently rubbing Quinn’s back.

“Rach?”

“Yes?”

“What were you going to say?”

Rachel swallowed visibly. “I don’t remember anymore,” she breathed.

“Oh.”

Quinn moved her mouth closer to Rachel’s, thinking that this would be the moment, the night. It was such a cliché-- a first kiss on a major national holiday, but Quinn didn’t care. She shut her eyes, prayed for bravery and hoped that everything would go well. She was ready, _so_ ready, so determined and then…

And then her fucking phone rang.

Rachel leaped back, startled, and the mood was broken.

It was Taylor calling. Quinn was going to _kill_ her big sister.

“I should go,” Rachel said, recognizing the ring tone to be Taylor’s. “Tell T ‘Happy Thanksgiving’ for me,” Rachel said quickly, grabbing her bag and stumbling out of the room.

Quinn blinked. In all the time Taylor was home, Quinn never heard Rachel address Taylor as ‘T’ or anything other than Taylor. _She_ didn’t even call her sister ‘T.’ It was a little weird to her, but she called out a distracted ‘bye, text me later!’ and then answered the phone. She was annoyed with her sister’s timing, but she was glad her sister called.

“Happy fucking Thanksgiving, jerk,” Quinn greeted.

Taylor laughed. “What the fuck?”

“It’s nothing,” Quinn said. She didn’t want to explain why her sister’s timing was so awful. “How are you?”

“I’m good. I just wanted to check in and see how Thanksgiving was. It was…” Taylor paused. “The first one without Dad.”

“It was okay,” Quinn said. “Mom got kind of drunk and weepy, but Rachel was over and she kept Mom entertained.”

“Where were Rachel’s dads?”

“LA.”

Taylor sighed. “Oh,” she said. “So where’s Mom?”

“Sleeping.”

Taylor sounded suspicious. “Sleeping or passed out?”

“Probably a little bit of both,” Quinn admitted. “But she didn’t say or do anything embarrassing, so that was nice.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry I wasn’t there, but I’m coming home for Christmas to be with you guys, so you won’t have to deal with her alone.”

Quinn perked up. “You are? That’s great.”  
  
Taylor laughed. “I can’t abandon my baby sister to our mother, can I?”

Quinn grinned. “She’s not that bad.”

They talked for a few more minutes. Once they were off the phone, Quinn laid down on her bed and thought about that interrupted moment with Rachel and sighed.

\--

She started to become hyperaware of how frequently she and Rachel invaded one another’s personal space. They linked arms while they walked to class, they ate off each other’s plates, and they sprawled practically on top of each other when they hung out in each other’s rooms.

They were assigned together on an in-class literature assignment and Quinn found herself grabbing Rachel’s wrist to look at Rachel’s watch for the time. Rachel practically sat in her lap during a glee practice because they both wanted to sit at the piano.

They had no boundaries when it came to one another.

\--

She and Rachel were paired with Brittany and Santana for an assignment in glee and the four of them ultimately decided upon that Killers’ song, ‘Mr. Brightside.’ The song had great energy and the four of them had a great time practicing and then singing in front of the others. But Quinn burned with jealousy when everyone clapped and Brittany pulled Rachel into an impetuous hug and Santana slapped Rachel on the butt. There was no way Rachel was closer to Santana and Brittany than she was to her, and yet, Rachel…intimate with _them_. She didn’t understand.

\--

For someone who was such an incredible diva, Rachel was surprisingly low-key when it came to her birthday.

“My parents aren’t really birthday people,” Rachel said dismissively. “Mine always kind of got lost in the Hanukkah shuffle.”

Still, it didn’t take much to convince Rachel to do _something_ for her birthday. Rachel seemed like she wanted to do something in a group with Brittany and Santana but Quinn coaxed Rachel into celebrating with Brittany and Santana on another night. Rachel’s birthday was the 18th, which was a Sunday that year. They celebrated with Santana and Brittany with a small party on Friday with alcohol and a double feature of early Barbra Streisand movies, but she got to have Rachel all to herself on Saturday and Sunday.

\--

She tried to make it perfect-- at least, Rachel’s idea of perfect and on Sunday night when they were curled up under Rachel’s blankets watching a movie, it really was perfect. They didn’t have to worry about school the next day because it was winter vacation and Rachel seemed happy with everything.

“Quinn,” Rachel murmured, snuggling up to her.

“Mmm?”

“Thank you for making my birthday so wonderful,” Rachel said quietly. “It’s not a big deal in my family, so I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you would…” she trailed off and her voice caught slightly. “Care so much to make it nice.”

Quinn smiled and she turned on her side to face Rachel. “Well, birthdays are kind of a big deal.”

Rachel gave her a wide, sincere smile. “You’re the best,” she declared, shooting forward to brush her lips against Quinn’s forehead. She pulled back, slightly, and smiled.

Quinn cupped Rachel’s cheek and gazed into Rachel’s eyes.

Rachel froze and she stared back. Her eyes lowered and she stared at Quinn’s mouth for a few moments.

Quinn smiled and caressed Rachel’s cheek. She leaned into Rachel and brushed her lips against Rachel’s.

Rachel kissed her back, and for a few minutes, they kissed languidly until Rachel pulled away, abruptly.

“I…no…I…I can’t…I can’t…no…this…no…” Rachel looked like she was going to cry.

Quinn felt like crying, too, because the kiss had been amazing. Rachel’s lips were so soft and the kiss didn’t feel perfunctory like when she’d kissed Finn or Puck. It felt so good and she didn’t want it to stop. But clearly Rachel hadn’t enjoyed it as much even though Rachel _seemed_ to enjoy it, what with all the breathless moans and sighs.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn whispered, panicking. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t…”

“I…I can’t…it’s…”

Quinn was mortified. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again.

Rachel sucked in a deep breath. “It’s okay, it’s just…” she trailed off. “I just _can’t_ ,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“Okay,” Quinn said. “I need to go.”

She got up and Rachel didn’t try to stop her and when she left, Rachel didn’t try to stop her then either.

She drove home, in tears. She couldn’t figure it out. What was so wrong with her?

\--

She was too mortified the next day to make any contact with Rachel, and Rachel didn’t try to contact her either.

\--

What the fuck did she do? She fucked it all up.

\--

Five days went by. She was depressed, angry and worried. She knew Rachel wouldn’t tell anyone about what happened, but she hadn’t heard from Rachel at all. She texted Rachel once in five days, but Rachel never responded. She kept thinking it would blow over, they could pretend it never happened and everything would be the same.

But so far, that wasn’t the case.

She picked Taylor up from the airport the day before Christmas Eve.

Quinn was visibly upset as she drove home.

“What’s wrong, little sister? It’s Christmas time.”

“It’s nothing,” Quinn said.

Taylor looked at her intently. “Is it Mom?”

Quinn smiled. “No,” she said truthfully. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, I’m here if you want to talk.”

“Thanks.”

\--

She got a text from Rachel on Christmas Day-- _Happy Christmas. I’m sorry I freaked out on you. Are we okay?_

Several hours had passed from when Rachel sent the next to when Quinn finally received it because she was in church at the time and turned her phone to silent instead of vibrate.

She texted Rachel back as she walked to the parking lot with her mother and sister.

_No. I’M sorry. Of course we’re okay. Do you want to come over tomorrow?_

_Okay._

\--

The day after Christmas, she and her sister finally went through their father’s belongings which were in boxes in the garage. When her father died, she and Rachel had gone to her father’s girlfriend’s house to collect his belongings, because her mother was too upset and her sister was too far away. Her father’s girlfriend seemed strangely hostile to the idea of having his things in her house and she wanted them gone immediately, so she and Rachel went to collect everything. Then Rachel went with her to her father’s office to pack up his things there.

Then his belongings sat in boxes for several months. Taylor had wanted to go through them immediately and sort of what should be kept, what should be donated, what should be recycled and what should be thrown away, but neither Quinn nor her mother were ready to do that, and so Taylor was nixed. Now that Taylor was back for Christmas and six months had passed since their father’s death, Quinn was ready to go through the boxes with Taylor.

All the clothes were put aside for Good Will, although their mother did want to keep two of his shirts-- one button-down and one t-shirt. There wasn’t much after that, mostly trinkets like a baseball their father caught at an Indians game, a couple of family pictures, a box of cigars and the like.

A whole life just packed away into a few boxes. It was kind of sad.

Quinn found a locked box and shook it, wondering what the contents were.

“What do you think this is?”

Taylor looked at it. “I don’t know. Let’s put it aside. We’ll look for a key later.”

“Okay.”

\--

Rachel came over that night and everything seemed okay, but she only stayed a few hours and even those few hours felt awkward.

\--

The tension built over the next few days.

She just didn’t understand. She thought the attraction was mutual. Rachel kissed her back. So what was the problem? She just wanted an explanation. When she really stopped to think about it, she knew she was really looking for an explanation for why Rachel didn’t want her, wasn’t attracted to her, and wanting to know the reasons was truly masochistic. But Quinn just wanted to know.

“You’ve slept with Santana and Brittany,” Quinn said one night while they were watching TV.

Rachel froze. “How did you…”

“I saw you guys kissing at school once and I just assumed. You just confirmed it,” Quinn said, wishing she could stop sounding so hostile. “You slept with _them_.”

Rachel sighed. “Just a few times,” she admitted. “Nothing since the summer.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “So you can kiss them, but…”

‘But you can’t kiss me,’ Quinn thought.

“I can’t…I can’t do this with you,” Rachel said. “I…” she swallowed hard and couldn’t say anything else.

“Why not?” Quinn whispered. “Why do you like them more than you like me?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly.

This was not the way things were supposed to go. She wasn’t supposed to ask _Rachel Berry_ why she liked Santana and Brittany more. No one was supposed to like _anyone_ more than they liked her. She was Quinn Fabray and she was back on top. _Everyone_ in school wanted her. Everyone except for Rachel, apparently.

“I don’t like anyone more than I like you,” Rachel said quietly. “You’re my favorite person. Don’t you know that by now?”

“Then why?” Quinn asked, tears brimming in her eyes.

“I just can’t,” Rachel whispered. “I can’t!”

“Why?”

“I can’t,” Rachel whispered, eyes pleading with Quinn to just drop this subject already. “Please,” she begged. “Please don’t ask anymore. I just can’t. We’re friends. Isn’t that enough?”

Quinn swallowed hard. It took her a moment to respond because the lump that rose in her throat was choking her. “Of course it is,” she said quietly. “I just wanted to know why I’m not enough,” Quinn said glumly, in a rare moment of true emotional honesty. She didn’t want to admit all of her secret insecurities and private self-doubts, but this was particularly difficult to accept.

Rachel’s eyes were wide and she grabbed Quinn’s hands. “It’s nothing to do with you!” she exclaimed. “It’s…” she trailed off. “It’s me. It’s all my fault. It’s me.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “What do you mean?”

Rachel shook her head. “I…I can’t. Okay? I can’t.” Rachel was agitated and she stood up. “I have to go.”

“You don’t have to go,” Quinn said quietly, because as excruciatingly awkward and painful as this is, she didn’t want Rachel to go. Not like this. And more importantly was the fact that she wanted Rachel close to her, always. Even if this was all they would ever have, she just wanted Rachel to stay.

“Yes, I do. You don’t want me here,” Rachel said, her voice ragged and hoarse.

“How would you know?” Quinn asked lightly. “I’m me and you’re you. You’re not me.”

Rachel laughed a little at that, but quickly sobered. She was crying and Quinn reached out to wipe at Rachel’s face.

“You geek,” Quinn murmured. “You’re the one who rejected me, why are you the one crying?” she asked, a little bitterly, but she tried her best to keep her voice light and gentle.

“I wish I could,” Rachel whispered. “But I can’t. I’m sorry. I just…I can’t. I can’t. If you knew…” Rachel trailed off and her eyes squeezed shut. “You don’t want me.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “If I knew what?”

Rachel’s face was so very expressive and she was clearly anxious. “Nothing.”

“If I knew what?” Quinn asked, wrapping her arms around Rachel’s waist.

Rachel swallowed hard. “Nothing.”

“If I knew what?” Quinn repeated, tightening her hold on Rachel.

“Nothing.”

“If I knew what?” Quinn whispered, bringing her face close to Rachel’s.

Rachel was trembling. “Nothing,” Rachel rasped.

“If I knew what?” Quinn asked, her voice barely audible. She brushed the side of her nose against Rachel’s and their mouths hovered so closely together.

“Nothing,” Rachel breathed.

Quinn brushed her mouth against Rachel’s. She just…she had to try one more time. She couldn’t just give up on something she wanted, she had to try again.

Rachel cried and pushed against Quinn’s chest. She took a few steps back. “I can’t,” she cried. “I just…I can’t.”

Quinn began to cry as well. “Why _not_?”

Rachel covered her face with her hands. “I slept with your sister.”

Quinn froze. “What?”

“I slept with your sister,” Rachel repeated, pulling her hands away from her face, and crossing her arms protectively in front herself. “We had a relationship,” she said, her voice trembling. “Before she left for Japan and we slept together over the summer while she was here. I slept with your sister. I _can’t_ do any of this with you.”

Quinn stared at Rachel, feeling like her heart was being clenched in Rachel Berry’s tiny fist. How could this have happened? Taylor was nine years older than Rachel was and she was married.

“She’s married,” Quinn whispered

“I know,” Rachel said, eyes lowering to the ground guiltily.

“You… you _slept_ with her? My sister?”

“We weren’t friends when it first started,” Rachel whispered. “You and I weren’t friends the first time Taylor and I slept together.”

Quinn glared. “And when was the first time you guys slept together?”

“It was a long time ago,” Rachel whispered. “Long before you and I were friends.”

“ _How_ long?”

“I don’t have a specific date,” Rachel said after a long moment of silence.

“Don’t get smart with me!” Quinn said. “You slept with my sister! So, all summer, when you stayed over, you were staying over so you could, what, try to get back together with her? All that time when my dad just died and you were telling me you’d do anything I needed you to do, you were just staying around for my sister? She’s married, Rachel!”

“You’re my best friend,” Rachel said quietly. “I had no ulterior motives. And I know she’s married. It was wrong of me,” she said. “I know I shouldn’t have let…I was wrong. But this is why I can’t…I can’t…not with you.”

Quinn clenched her jaw. “Are you in love with her?”

Rachel’s eyes were downcast. “Not now,” she whispered.

“So why did you sleep with her?! Have you slept with her since she’s been home? Is that why you’re here?”

“I haven’t slept with her since she left in the summer,” Rachel said quietly.

“Oh, I see,” Quinn said sarcastically. “So you fucked Brittany and Santana until my sister came home, then you stopped sleeping with them to sleep with my sister. So you just sleep around, but you aren’t a skank,” she said spitefully, unable to resist lashing out.

“I was in love with her,” Rachel said weakly. “I was in love with her since I was five.”

“It must have been very hard for you to have waited so long to finally sleep with her,” Quinn said sarcastically.

Something in Rachel’s expression flickered. It was brief and _so_ fleeting, Quinn thought she imagined it, but there was definitely something there.

“What?” Quinn asked.

“What?”

“You had a look.”

“I didn’t…I…there was no look!”

“You had a look!”

“I didn’t,” Rachel said quietly. “I’m so sorry, Quinn. I never…I never meant for you to find out. Please don’t tell Taylor I told you. She…she would be upset.”

Quinn clenched her jaw. “You slept with my sister.”

“Yes.”

“But you’re not sleeping with her anymore?”

“No.”

Quinn wanted to scream, but instead she said, “okay.”

Rachel stared at her. “Okay?”

“You slept with my sister. That’s weird, but...” Quinn trailed off. It should be a dealbreaker, but it wasn’t. She wanted Rachel _that_ much. “It’s not a dealbreaker.”

Rachel stared down at the ground. “It is for me,” she whispered. “You remind me so much of her. You…you even smell like her.”

Quinn clenched her jaw. “So you are still in love with her.”

“My relationship with her was really complicated,” Rachel whispered. “I just…I can’t relive it.”

“So, what, every moment with me is a reminder of her?” Quinn demanded, trying not to be hostile, but failing.

“Every moment with you is spent with _you_ ,” Rachel said quietly. “When I’m with you, I don’t think of anyone other than you. I love you. I adore you. Isn’t that blatantly obvious? But I can’t…be with you that way because…”

“Because of my sister,” Quinn said bitterly.

“She and I…we have…history,” Rachel said softly. “That’s all I can say about it.”

Quinn gripped her head with her hands. She knew it was irrational to be angry, but she was furious and the desire to just slap Rachel was so overwhelming that her hands were trembling. But she didn’t want to hurt Rachel.

“You…you should leave,” Quinn said finally.

Rachel pooled with tears. “Quinn. I…”

“You should leave.”

“Are you okay?” Rachel asked quietly, and she looked so worried and solicitous that Quinn was reminded all over again why she loved this girl in the first place because no one else seemed to bother being as concerned for her as Rachel did.

“Yeah,” Quinn said flatly. “You should leave.”

“Are _we_ okay?”

Quinn paused. “Yeah,” she said. “But you should leave.”

Rachel was clearly upset, but Quinn didn’t have the energy to take care of her. She barely had the energy to take care of herself.

“Okay,” Rachel said quietly.

Rachel left and it was only when Quinn was sure Rachel left the house, that she allowed herself to break down into sobs.

\--

She thought about it, and it made sense. The way Rachel was so depressed before Taylor left for Japan and immediately after. The time Rachel murmured “T, turn out the lights.” It was all so fucking obvious now, she didn’t understand why she didn’t see it before.

She was tempted to confront her sister, but she didn’t know what she could possibly say. She was furious with both of them, but she knew she really didn’t have a right. She just didn’t understand how the _fuck_ Taylor could sleep with Rachel. Taylor was nine years older than Rachel and used to babysit her. So how could Taylor do that?  
\--

She must have fallen asleep. When she woke up, her face was swollen and she needed a glass of water.

She walked down the stairs and paused when she smelled something burning from the garage. Quinn opened the door to the garage to find her sister standing over the garage’s sink, burning what looked like photographs. Next to her sister’s feet was that locked box that was in her father’s belongings. It looked like Taylor forcibly opened it with tools.

Taylor was crying.

“What are you doing?” Quinn asked quietly.

Startled, Taylor dropped the burning photograph into the sink.

“Quinn!”

“That’s Dad’s stuff,” Quinn said. “Why are you burning it?”

Taylor looked caught. “Go back to bed.”

“What are you burning?” Quinn demanded. She pushed past her sister to pick up the box at her sister’s feet.

“No!” Taylor exclaimed. She bent down trying to snatch the box away from Quinn.

But it was too late. Quinn saw a photograph that made her blood freeze.

“Give it back!” Taylor said and she tackled Quinn to the ground to try to wrestle it out of Quinn’s hands.

Quinn landed on her stomach and her knees.”Get off me!” she screamed. She shoved Taylor away and dumped the contents of the box on the ground. Pictures fluttered to the ground.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Quinn whimpered. She was still laying flat on the ground as she looked at the photos.

She was going to be sick.

There was a small, undressed dark-haired child featured in all the pictures, sometimes next to Taylor who was equally undressed, sometimes alone. Despite the fact that the child had her eyes closed in all of the pictures, and appeared to be sleeping, Quinn recognized her immediately.

Rachel.

Rachel, no older than five, but looking younger. Rachel, a little older, but clearly not old enough to be in the double digits of age. Rachel, no older than ten.

Oh God. Oh God.

And in some of those pictures, Taylor was clearly _doing_ things to Rachel.

Oh God. Oh God. This is what Rachel meant when she said she and Taylor had _history_.

Immediately, Quinn just knew. She knew what her sister did to Rachel when Rachel was just a little kid. The pictures were proof.

Quinn threw up on the floor of her mother’s three-car garage.

Taylor tried to rub her back, but Quinn pushed her away.

“What the fuck is this?!” Quinn screamed. “What is this?” she demanded, waving the pictures in Taylor’s face. “What are you doing to her?! Why did Dad have this shit?!”

Taylor’s face was blank. “I think you know the answer to that.”

\--

Their mother came down to see what the commotion was.

“Look at what she did to Rachel!” Quinn screamed throwing the pictures at their mother. Quinn turned back to Taylor. “Tell me what you did to her!” Quinn screamed, sobbing. “Tell me what you did!”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re a liar!” Quinn roared. “You’re a fucking liar! If you didn’t do anything, then what the fuck is all that?!” she demanded, pointing toward the pictures she’d thrown at her mother’s feet. “Do you know what she is?!” she screamed at her mother, pointing at Taylor. “Look at what she did!”

Her mother was staring down at the pictures, but she didn’t pick them up.

“Of course she knew!” Taylor spat out. “You think I wanted this? You should be thanking me, both of you!” Taylor snapped. She glared at her mother. “You,” she spat out. “You ignored it when you _knew_ what he was doing to me. You _ignored_ it. You knew, but you ignored it! And _you_ ,” Taylor said, glaring at Quinn. “You were Daddy’s little girl, you have _no_ idea what he was really like. You’re giving me shit for what happened to Rachel? Well, I gave her to him, so he wouldn’t take _you_. I made a choice! I loved her, but I loved _you_ more, so I gave her to _him_ to satisfy him. I saved _you_ by sacrificing her.”

Quinn stared at her sister in horror. She didn’t know this person. “You’re a liar,” she said finally. “You’re a fucking liar! Don’t you dare bring Daddy into this!”

“Really?” Taylor mocked. “Then why do you think he had those pictures, Quinn?” she asked. She bent down to pick them up and she held one up and shoved it in Quinn’s face.

Quinn flinched and looked away. She couldn’t look.

“Who do you think _took_ the pictures, Quinn?” Taylor demanded. “Who do you think taught me to…” she trailed off and swallowed hard. “He got off on it,” she said, becoming increasingly teary. “I didn’t want to at first, but he would tell me what to do to her, and he would want me to tell him all about it when I got home, if she cried, if she begged, if she were compliant, if she resisted--”

“Stop it,” Quinn yelled. “Stop it!”

“He wanted all the details,” Taylor said. “He taught me what to do and when he started to get _hungry_ for more, he’d give me a couple of Mom’s sleeping pills. I’d give her half and she’d take it because she thought it was a vitamin. She’d pass out, he’d come over and--”

“Stop it!” Quinn shouted. “Shut up! Shut up! I don’t want to hear this!”

“You started it!” Taylor screamed. “You just had to look, didn’t you?! I told you to go back to bed!” She turned to their mother. “Don’t just stand there staring!” she screamed. “What did you think when I’d bring home her underwear for you to wash so her dads wouldn’t notice there was blood on it! What did you think when you were washing _my_ underwear and there was blood on it? That I had my period? I was _five_! You could have stopped all of it, you knew exactly what he was, but you what, couldn’t put down a drink long enough to get a job? What?! You could have saved me, you could have saved Rachel, but you didn’t!”

Quinn stared at her mother in horror. “Mom?” she whispered. She wiped at her eyes. “Mom!” she exclaimed. “Is that true?!” she demanded. “Mom! Fucking answer me!”

“Taylor, Quinn,” Judy said finally. “Watch your mouths. I’m still your mother. Go to bed, both of you.”

“This is so typical of you,” Taylor spat out. “Just pretend like nothing bad happened, right? Your husband is a pedophile and he likes your daughter a little too much, but do you protect me? No.”

“Who cares about you?!” Quinn screamed. “What did you do to Rachel!?” she shouted, moving toward her sister to grab her by the shoulders. She shook her fiercely. “How could you do that to Rachel?!” she demanded, sobbing. “How could you do that!! She loved you!”

“It was either her or you,” Taylor said defiantly, pushing Quinn away. “I chose her to save you.”

Quinn sneered at her. “You’re a rapist. You’re a pedophile.”

“I am not!” Taylor shouted. “She was the only one! And I loved her!”

Quinn’s eyes were wide. “Oh _God_ ,” she said. “When you were sleeping with her last year, did you _force_ her? What about over the summer?”

Oh God, oh God. Rachel made it sound like it was consensual, but what if it wasn’t?

“She told you about that?!”

“Don’t worry,” Quinn said bitterly. “Even after what you did, she still protected you. Did you force her? After everything you did to her, did you force her? Did you _rape_ her again? You’re a rapist!”

“Whatever you might believe about me,” Taylor said quietly. “I loved her. I never wanted to hurt her. I wouldn’t have done it if it weren’t for him.”

“You’re a liar,” Quinn whispered. “You had a choice.” She looked at her mother in disgust, because she fully believed her sister when she said that their mother knew. She knew what her sister was saying about her father was true. Why would he have these pictures if it weren’t true? “And you…you knew,” Quinn said, sickened. “You knew and you did _nothing_.” Her knees felt weak and she dropped to her knees and vomited again. “You ruined my life,” Quinn whispered and she wasn’t sure if she was talking to her mother or her sister.

It sounded overdramatic, but it felt true. She wanted Rachel and now Rachel was clearly out of reach for her. But Rachel was just a girl and there would be other girls. Maybe there would even be other boys. And maybe there would be a time in the future when she stopped wanting Rachel so much, but there would never be a time when she could _forget_ Rachel. She could never forget what her sister did to Rachel. She could never forget what her sister was.

“I did what I had to do to protect you,” Taylor said quietly. “I was fourteen and I didn’t know what else to do. Dad was eyeing you the way he used to eye me and I knew Mom wouldn’t protect you anymore than she protected me. I didn’t want to do that to Rachel. What do you think I am? A monster? You’re my _sister_. You know me. But I did what I had to do to protect you.”

“Stop saying that!” Quinn screamed because she didn’t want to feel any culpability for what happened to Rachel and she was starting to.

“It’s true,” Taylor said quietly

“I’m going to the police,” Quinn threatened.

“And what do you think will happen? The police are going to come here and you’re going to tell them that I did something to Rachel and I’ll tell them what Dad made me do with him and then they’ll ask Mom why she never did anything when she knew and they’ll take you straight to foster care for Mom’s failure to protect.”

“I don’t care!” Quinn shouted. “I’ll live with grandma or grandpa! Or one of our aunts!”

Not that any of those people stepped in for her when she needed a place to go when she was homeless and pregnant.

“And what do you think will happen to Rachel if you do?” Taylor asked. “They’re going to find out that Rachel’s parents probably knew back then, too, but that one of her fathers was too busy trying to get high and her other father was too busy enabling him and neither of them gave a shit about what happened to her. They’re going to find out that she basically lives in that house alone with no supervision and she will _definitely_ go to foster care and she has no family she can stay with. You want to do that to her?”

That made Quinn freeze. “Shut up,” Quinn whispered.

“We can’t change the past, Quinn.”

“You’re _sick_ ,” Quinn said. She felt sick herself. “You just gave her to him! How could you do that? God,” Quinn cried, wiping at her eyes. “I have to see her.”

“She doesn’t even know about Dad,” Taylor said quietly. “She was always sleeping--”

“Because you drugged her!”

“She doesn’t know about Dad. You shouldn’t tell her. You’re going to make it worse for her.”

“You’re sick,” Quinn whispered. God, how could she keep this from Rachel? But how could she tell her?

“Quinnie, don’t do anything rash,” their mother said quietly. “We’re your family and Rachel is just a friend.”

“I’m your sister,” Taylor said softly. “You’re going to have friends other than Rachel. But I’m your only sister.”

“Fuck you,” Quinn hissed.”Fuck you both.”

 

She couldn’t even look at her mother or her sister as she ran out of the garage and up to her room. In one day, she’d lost her entire family. God, what kind of people did she come from?

She dressed quickly. She looked at the origami swans on her nightstand and felt a lump rise in her throat. She couldn’t breathe. She sat down on the bed and looked away from her nightstand only to see the pile of books and DVDs on her desk that Rachel had lent her. Oh God, she didn’t want to take any more from Rachel. She picked up everything, grabbed her purse and her keys and ran down the stairs, crying in frustration when she dropped a book. She bent down to pick it up and ended up dropping more. She could hear her mother and sister screaming at one another in the garage. Sobbing, Quinn ran to the kitchen to get a paper bag. She got one and ran back to the stairs where she put the books and DVDs into the paper bag. She picked it up and ran back to the garage.

“Quinnie? Where are you going?” her mother asked, looking alarmed.

Quinn didn’t answer. She opened the garage, her mother and sister still shouting for her to stop.

She backed out of the garage and shut it behind her.

She sobbed as she drove. She made her way to Rachel’s house and rang the doorbell and banged on the front door until Rachel answered.

“Quinn?” Rachel asked looking confused and alarmed. “Quinn, what’s wrong?”

Sobbing, Quinn threw herself at Rachel, grabbing Rachel into a tight hug. She pressed her face into Rachel’s shoulder and cried.

“What’s wrong?” Rachel asked. “Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?”

Quinn continued to cry, clinging to Rachel as fiercely as she would cling to a piece of wood if she were adrift in the ocean. She thought about everything she learned about her family, what her family _did_ to Rachel, she thought about what she said to Rachel just a few hours before, how angrily she reacted instead of just listening.

She couldn’t be here.

She pulled away. “I’m sorry,” Quinn rasped, crying. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be here,” she said, she backed away and ran toward her car. How could she go to Rachel, of all people, for support?  
  
“Quinn! Wait!” Rachel called, running after her.

Quinn ran toward her car and used her key to remotely unlock it. She reached her car and flung open the door only to have it slammed shut by Rachel.

Rachel pulled Quinn into a tight hug. “What’s wrong?” Rachel asked. “What happened? Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay,” Rachel whispered. “It’s going to be okay, I promise. Just come in and talk to me. It’s going to be okay, Quinn.”

Quinn could only cry. She sank to the ground and Rachel sank with her.

“It’s okay,” Rachel whispered as she hugged Quinn as tightly as she could. “It’s okay to cry, just…come in, okay? Come in and talk to me. It’s going to be okay.”

Quinn sobbed even harder. It was never going to be okay.


	8. Chapter 8

  
When Quinn showed up unannounced at 3am, clearly distraught and in tears, Rachel assumed the worst. She had to chase Quinn to her car to prevent her friend leaving and it took some time where she sat with Quinn in the driveway next to Quinn’s car for the blonde to calm down enough for Rachel to gently pull her inside.

Daddy was still in California, and she wasn’t exactly sure where Dad was, but he wasn’t home, so she had the house all to herself.

They sat for a while in the kitchen. The only thing Rachel could think to do was give Quinn a glass of water.

“Quinn,” Rachel said, trying to keep her voice as soft as gentle as she could despite the fact she was completely freaked out. “Did something happen?”

Quinn’s eyes pooled again with tears. She couldn’t seem to stop crying and she didn’t feel like she had any _right_ to cry. She had to know. She had to know why she was spared, but her sister wasn’t. She had to know why she was spared, but Rachel wasn’t. But these weren’t questions she could ask Rachel. God, why did she even come here? How could she have come here to _Rachel_ , of all people? How could she even begin to explain to Rachel what she knew now, that she knew even more about what happened to Rachel than Rachel herself did?

“I shouldn’t be here,” Quinn said quietly, standing up.

Rachel rose up quickly and wrapped herself around Quinn. “You’re always welcome here,” she murmured. “You’re my best friend. Please tell me what’s wrong, because clearly something is. If something is troubling you, I want to know about it. Whatever it is, I know it’ll get better, sweetheart. Bad things never last forever.” She pressed a kiss to Quinn’s cheek. “Please,” Rachel pleaded. “I don’t want to make this all about me, but it’s really frightening to see you like this and I’m not letting you leave until you tell me what’s wrong or that I know you’re okay.”

A sob was wrenched out of Quinn’s throat and she sank to her knees. Rachel crouched beside her.

“Tell me what she did to you,” Quinn pleaded, finally. “Please. I have to know.”

Rachel stared at her. “What are you talking about? I’m fine. No one did anything to me. Honey, did you have a bad dream?”

“Taylor,” Quinn managed to choke out. “What did _Taylor_ do to you? When you were little.”

Rachel made a noise-- a stunned squeak that she couldn’t control. It just came out. “I…um.” She was so stunned, she couldn’t answer for a moment. How did…how did Quinn know? Finally, Rachel took a deep breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Taylor has always been very good to me.”

“That’s a lie!” Quinn shouted. She was horrified when she saw the fearful way Rachel jumped slightly. “Oh God, I’m so sorry,” she said. “Please,” Quinn begged. “I know something happened. Tell me what she did to you! I _know_.”

Rachel took a deep breath and then released it in a wheeze. “I can’t. I won’t.”

“Please,” Quinn pleaded. “Please.”

Rachel shook her head put her index finger to her lips. “I’m not supposed to tell,” she whispered, looking like a little kid shushing someone.

Quinn stared at Rachel, stared at Rachel’s hand, the way Rachel’s thumb and pinky finger didn’t curl into her fist with her middle and ring finger, but instead just sort of curved a little, almost like Rachel was gesturing ‘I love you,’ in sign language, but turned side-ways.

Her sister used to do that all the time.

Quinn swallowed hard. She pulled her knees up to her chest. She’d had three devastating moments in her life-- when she found out she was pregnant, when she left that hospital without her baby and when her father died suddenly. This night outweighed them all.

Everything she thought she knew about her family was all a _lie_.

She couldn’t speak anymore. She buried her head into her knees and cried on the floor of Rachel’s kitchen.

\--

Rachel wanted desperately to put her arms around Quinn and comfort her, but Rachel was frozen. How did Quinn know? The only person who knew was Taylor and Rachel couldn’t imagine how Taylor would have told Quinn.

Quinn was shaking. The house was cold and Quinn must have been freezing dressed only in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt while sitting on that cold linoleum floor.

“Honey,” Rachel said softly, touching her hands to Quinn’s shoulders. “Honey. Sweetheart. I’m going upstairs to get you a blanket, okay? But don’t leave.”

She didn’t think Quinn had the energy to move in this state, but Quinn had already tried to leave twice, so who knew?

“Okay,” Quinn whispered.

“Honey, where are your keys?”

Quinn absently checked herself, but she couldn’t find them. She couldn’t remember what she did with them. “I…I think they’re still in my car.”

“Okay,” Rachel said softly. “I’m going to run out and get them. Don’t leave, okay?”

“Okay.”

Rachel ran out to Quinn’s car and found that the car was unlocked and the keys were in the ignition. She saw Quinn’s purse on the passenger seat and grabbed that, too. There was a paper grocery bag on the floor of the passenger seat and Rachel happened to glance into it because she saw her copy of _East of Eden_ at the top. It was filled with books and DVDs that Quinn had borrowed from her, but had yet to give back. Rachel frowned a little, but left the bag where it was. She was ready to get up and reenter the house, but Quinn’s phone rang.

Rachel recognized the ring tone to be Quinn’s mother’s, so she unzipped Quinn’s purse and pulled out the phone.

“Mrs. Fabray?”

Judy paused. “Rachel?”

“Yes,” Rachel said. “Quinn’s with me. Did…did something happen tonight?”

“Is she all right?” Judy asked quietly.

“She seems okay, physically. She’s very…upset.”

“But she’s safe.”

“Yes, definitely,” Rachel said, trying to assure her best friend’s mother the best she could. “Did something happen?”

“It…please keep her there and tell her to come home in the morning, Rachel.”

“Okay,” Rachel said. “I will.”

“I’m very sorry, Rachel,” Judy whispered.

“She’s my best friend,” Rachel said. “It’s not a problem for her to stay here.”

“Not about that,” Judy said vaguely. “Good night, Rachel. Please take care of her.”

She hung up before Rachel could respond. Rachel ran back into the house and then ran up the stairs to her bedroom to grab her comforter.

Quinn was still where she left her in the kitchen, still sitting in the same position.

Rachel sat down and wrapped the comforter around Quinn and crouched in front of the blonde. She brought the comforter up to cover herself, although that left her back exposed, so she was still a little cold.

“Hey,” Rachel said, “it’s kind of like we’re building a fort,” she joked, trying to bring a little levity into the moment.

Quinn didn’t laugh. “Don’t protect her,” Quinn said. “Stop protecting her. She doesn’t deserve your protection.”

Rachel blinked, a little surprised because that kind of came out of nowhere, but then she realized Quinn was only continuing on with the conversation they were already having before she went to grab Quinn’s things from the car.

“Honey,” Rachel said. “I’m not trying to protect _anyone_. I just want to know what happened to upset you so much. Do you want to go up to my room? It’s more comfortable than the floor.”

“Okay,” Quinn whispered.

Rachel got up first, grabbing Quinn’s purse as she rose to her feet. She held out her hand and helped Quinn get to her feet. Rachel wrapped the comforter around Quinn’s shoulders and she guided the blonde to her room, although by now, Quinn obviously knew the way.

\--

Quinn sat heavily on the bed and laid down. “I know what she did,” she said quietly. “I know what my sister is now. You don’t have to protect her.”

Rachel swallowed hard. “Your sister’s a good person,” she said, sitting on the bed.

Quinn sat up. “No, she isn’t!” she yelled. “She’s not!”

Rachel winced. “Quinn, what happened between Taylor and me is private and people looking at it from the outside would never understand. Did….did she tell you…” Rachel trailed off. She couldn’t imagine Taylor telling Quinn, not with the way Taylor emphasized secrecy. But how else would Quinn know? She had to admit, she felt completely betrayed. She was furious with Taylor for letting their secret out and she was humiliated that Quinn knew, but Quinn seemed so upset that Rachel put that aside.

Quinn closed her eyes at the memory of those _disgusting_ pictures. How could Taylor _do_ that to Rachel? How could her father do that to her sister _and_ Rachel? It was too much. She’d lost her dad months ago, but this was the first time she _truly_ felt like she lost him. She never knew him at all. And she’d lost her sister-- she could never look at Taylor the same way knowing what she did to Rachel. She could never look at her mother the same way knowing how her mother protected her father. And now? Now she’d lost Rachel. How could she be around Rachel knowing what her family did to Rachel? God, it was sickening.

“Quinn, what happened tonight? Why are you so upset?”

Quinn glared at Rachel. “I know what my sister did to you!” she shouted. “Isn’t it obvious why I’m upset?!” she snapped and ugh, she hated herself because she couldn’t stop taking out her rage on Rachel.

Rachel swallowed hard. A little bewildered. Why should Quinn care so much about what happened to her so long ago?

“It’s over now,” Rachel said softly. “Your sister’s a good person, Quinn. It was okay. It was all okay. I was so in love with her,” Rachel said earnestly and she just wanted to make Quinn understand. “She was…she was good to me.”

Quinn looked at her and then began to laugh incredulously. “She’s a good person?!” she shouted in disbelief. “She’s a pedophile!”

Rachel stared at her, stunned. “Quinn! Don’t…”

Rachel’s phone rang and she immediately recognized that it was Taylor from the ring tone. Rachel glanced at the phone just as Quinn did. Quinn’s eyes narrowed and they both shot across the bed to grope for the phone on the nightstand. Quinn reached it first and saw just the initial ‘T’ on the caller ID. She just knew it was her sister calling Rachel and she was _enraged_.

She answered it.

“Stay away from her, you disgusting pervert!” she screamed into the phone. She hung it up and slammed the phone down onto the nightstand, belatedly realizing that she just nearly broke Rachel’s phone and not her own.

“Quinn, please calm down,” Rachel pleaded because this side of Quinn, which she’d never before seen, was terrifying. Quinn had this unaccountable rage that Rachel didn’t understand and for the first time in their friendship, Rachel found herself afraid of her. She didn’t understand why Quinn was so upset with Taylor, was it on her behalf? Because that would be pointless considering Rachel wasn’t upset with Taylor anymore.

“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down!” Quinn shouted, slamming her hand against Rachel’s headboard.

Rachel jumped slightly and out of pure instinct, she retreated, scrambling to move back on the bed.

Quinn’s heart twisted. The fear and trepidation were written all over Rachel’s face. Rachel was afraid of _her_. She took a deep breath, trying to explain.

“Taylor and I were going through some of my dad’s stuff a few days ago,” Quinn said quietly, trying to calm down and explain to Rachel exactly why she was so fucking upset. “He had this lockbox. We put it aside and I…I thought it was weird because I didn’t see it where we left it. And then tonight, after you left, I was…I was pretty upset,” Quinn admitted, wanting to cry because she understood now, she understood very clearly why Rachel said _I can’t_. “I guess I fell asleep. I woke up and I needed a glass of water, so I went downstairs and I smelled something burning, so I went to check.” Quinn’s throat closed up. “My dad had pictures of you in that lockbox,” Quinn said quietly.

Rachel stared at Quinn, puzzled. She didn’t understand. “Why is that such a…” she trailed off. She swallowed hard. “From Tay?”

Quinn couldn’t meet Rachel’s eyes. “Yes. She was burning them,” she laughed humorlessly. “I guess so she wouldn’t be incriminated.”

Rachel swallowed hard. “Oh,” she said quietly. Her eyes were downcast. “Okay,” she said softly.

Quinn’s heart clenched at the lack of reaction. And she didn’t know if she should tell Rachel now about what Taylor allowed their father to do to Rachel. It would only hurt Rachel, but how could she keep it a secret?

“I know what she did to you,” Quinn whispered. “I know.”

“It was a long time ago,” Rachel said softly. “Forget about it. It won’t change the past.”

“Tell me what she did,” Quinn begged. She knew it was masochistic to want details, but she had to know how deeply that hurt went, how much Taylor and their father hurt Rachel, how much Rachel incurred the hurt that should have been _hers_.

“Quinn,” Rachel sighed raggedly. “You said you already know. What are you asking for? Details?”

Actually, that was exactly what Quinn was asking for.

“Did she make it hurt?”

Rachel was so little those photographs that Quinn saw and from what Quinn remembered Rachel was five when Taylor started babysitting her. It _must_ have hurt.

Rachel winced. "Quinn, don't make this more difficult than it needs to be. It is already exceedingly difficult for me to discuss."

"Please," Quinn whispered. "I have to know. She's my sister and I love yo-" she cut herself off. She didn’t want to burden Rachel with that and just the thought of that woman being her _sister_ made Quinn sick. God, she thought about all the times she forced Rachel to talk to Taylor on the phone or forced Rachel to hang out with them over the summer. It made Quinn _sick_.

Rachel sighed. "It hurt at first," she admitted. "She tried to be gentle, I think. But at first I thought..." she stopped, unwilling to give so much detail. When she was little, it'd hurt so terribly, she swore Taylor stuck knives into her.

"What? What did you think?" Quinn asked quietly.

"This won't do anything. Your life won’t be edified by you knowing."

"I need to know what she did to you," Quinn whispered. "Please. Tell me what you thought." she wanted to cry, but she didn’t think she had any right. Rachel should be the one crying, but she wasn’t, so Quinn didn’t think she had any right to cry any more when Rachel wasn’t.

"I thought she stuck a knife into...well, you know… um…" Rachel reddened. "Down there,” she whispered. “And in my..." her cheeks were bright with shame."Please. Please don't make me say it."

Quinn visibly paled. "She did that?" she choked out. "She stuck a knife...I..."

"No! Never! She wouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t like that. It just.. It hurt. It just hurt. But your first time is supposed to hurt and--"

"Oh God." Quinn whispered. She was going to be sick. This couldn’t be happening to her. This just couldn’t be happening. And then she realized that while her sister obviously never stuck a knife into Rachel, it must have _felt_ like that for a little kid like Rachel had been.

"It was okay," Rachel said, desperate to soothe Quinn. "It wasn't so bad. She was...gentle most of the time. And she always said she was sorry when she got mean and..."

"Oh God."

Quinn fled into Rachel's bathroom, collapsed to her knees and vomited the contents of her empty stomach. She wanted to cry when Rachel rubbed her back and tried to comfort her.

"It's okay," Rachel crooned. "I loved her and she loved me. Your first time should be with someone you love. She made it feel good. Quinn, it was okay. It wasn’t so bad.”

Oh God.

Quinn threw up again.

\--

They talked until the sun rose. Rachel didn’t give every detail, but the cat was out the bag, so to speak, and since Quinn already knew and wanted answers, Rachel was too weary to pretend like it never happened.

“She’s still your sister,” Rachel said quietly. “My relationship with her has nothing to do with your relationship with her. This shouldn’t change anything.”

Quinn stared at her. “It changes _everything_.”

“She didn’t hurt me,” Rachel said quietly, conveniently making herself forget about all the time it hurt so badly, she begged Taylor to _stop_. “We were in love. You wouldn’t understand it, but we were in love.”

“That’s not love,” Quinn whispered.

“I still love her,” Rachel said softly. “Please, Quinn. Please don’t tell _anyone_.”

“I’m going to the police,” Quinn said. “She should be in jail for what she did to you!”

“No!” Rachel cried. She got on her knees in front of Quinn. “Please,” she begged. “You can’t tell anyone, especially the police. Please. It’ll ruin her life--”

“I don’t care!”

“It’ll ruin mine,” Rachel whispered. “Please,” she begged. “You know how the people in this town look at me. You know how people at school _think_ of me. Six more months and I get to leave. _We_ get to leave.” She was counting down the days and the countdown was closer than it ever was. She couldn’t have this come out and ruin everything. She’d never be able to lift her head high again, she’d never be able to get over the shame of _everyone_ knowing. “ Please don’t make things harder for me when I only have _six_ more months. No one keeps a secret in this town,” Rachel whispered. “Everyone will know. I can’t… I can’t live like that. I can’t live with everyone knowing. _Please_.” she begged, her voice rising and becoming hysterical. “Please don’t tell _anyone_. If you won’t do it for Taylor, _please_ consider doing it for me. Please, Quinn. I’m begging you. I’ll do anything you want. Just…please! Please don’t tell anyone!”  
.  
Quinn took a shaky breath, suppressing the urge to scream, suppressing the urge to shout that Taylor should be punished for what she did. “Okay,” she said quietly, though the word choked it. It felt wrong to keep it a secret-- it wasn’t right, it meant that Taylor would be unpunished after everything she did to Rachel. She would keep quiet for Rachel, not for Taylor. For _Rachel_. Only for Rachel.

If her father were still alive, Quinn knew she would try to kill him herself.

\--

Quinn knew it was selfish, but she couldn’t carry around the burden of what her father did to Rachel. And she didn’t think it was right that she knew something so personal about Rachel that Rachel didn’t. And most selfish of all, she wanted to show Rachel just what kind of person Rachel was protecting, because her sister had essentially given Rachel to their father.

She told Rachel everything that Taylor told her.

Rachel looked stricken when Quinn was finished.

“Oh,” Rachel said quietly. She bit the inside of her cheek. “I see.”

It kind of made sense to her now because she used to have terrifying nightmares of a blonde man who _hurt_ her even worse than Taylor did, and when she used to tell Taylor about them (because she told Taylor _everything_ ), Taylor always told her that it was okay because it wasn’t true and Rachel always believed her.

It all made sense now.

“Did Taylor ever…” Rachel trailed off and she looked at Quinn, begging Quinn to understand what she was asking without having to actually voice it.

Quinn suddenly thought back to a conversation she had with Rachel once.

_“Are you and Taylor close?”_

_“Not really. Kind of. I don’t know. She’s my sister and I used to think she was the best growing up.”_

_“She was good to you?”_

_“Yeah. I mean, we didn’t hang out much. She spent more time at your house than our house, but she’d take me to do stuff and let me hang out with her sometimes. Our parents made her babysit, so we spent a lot of time together that we probably wouldn’t have if she’d had the choice.”_

_“You guys do have a pretty big age difference.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“So no big fights between the two of you? No sibling rivalry? She never chased you around the house, got on top of you and threatened to spit in your eye if you didn’t listen to her?”_

_“Ewww. Yuck. God, what do you think sisters do? Your parents should have given you a sister or a brother.”_

Oh, God. Is that what Rachel had tried to ask her?

“No,” Quinn said quietly. “She never did….anything to me.” She would do anything to go back in time and trade places with Rachel.

Rachel nodded. “I’m glad,” she said softly. She hesitated. “What about your dad?”

“No,” Quinn whispered, and she felt so so guilty the answer was ‘no’ when Rachel had to endure…oh God, she didn’t even want to think about that. “I never…I never knew he would be…I never knew he was like that.” He never drugged _her_ with one of her mother’s sleeping pills, after all.

Rachel sighed softly. “I’m glad,” she said again. “I’m sorry you had to find out,” she said quietly.

“ _I’m_ sorry,” Quinn cried. “God, I’m so fucking sorry for my…my… _disgusting_ family. Oh God. How can you even stand to be around me? I shouldn’t even be here right now!” She stood up quickly. She needed to _leave_. She shouldn’t be around Rachel.

“Quinn,” Rachel said softly, scrambling to her feet. She grabbed Quinn into a fierce hug. “This hasn’t been a very good night for either of us,” she said quietly. She felt tears start to flow out of her eyes and she wasn’t sure why she was crying about stuff that happened so long ago. Crying wasn’t going to change the past. “But there is no one else in the world I’d rather be with right now than you. Please don’t go. You’re upset and everyone knows that emotional distress impairs driving ability. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I _love_ you. Let’s just go into my room and we can go to sleep, okay?”

Quinn buried her face into Rachel’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of Rachel’s hair, her skin, the body wash that Rachel must have used, the smell of laundry detergent and fabric softener on Rachel’s shirt that melded with the perfume of Rachel’s skin. God, even at this moment she couldn’t stop wanting Rachel. She was a pervert, just like her sister, just like her father.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Quinn repeated.

Rachel clung to her. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” Quinn whispered.

“I can’t let you go.”

“I shouldn’t be here.”

“Why?” Rachel asked gently.

Quinn pressed her mouth against Rachel’s shoulder to muffle the screaming sob that choked from her throat. “You know why,” Quinn said when she caught her breath once she stopped crying. “My sister and my dad…they…”

“They aren’t you,” Rachel said quietly. “You’re my best friend. I love you. I really need you right now,” she said softly. “And I think you need me, too. Please don’t leave. Stay the night. Stay with me.”

“You said I remind you of her, you said I even _smell_ like her. How can you want to around me. If it were me, I…”

“Stop,” Rachel said quietly. “You used to remind me a lot of her, but you’re your own person, sweetheart. You’re my _partner_ , remember?”

Quinn gave her a small smile. “Yeah.”

“You look like her,” Rachel said quietly. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t see you for you.”

“But I smell like her.”

Rachel paused. “You have this perfume,” she admitted quietly. “Tay uses it, too.”

Quinn froze when she realized that she’d worn that perfume _deliberately_ because she thought Rachel liked it on Taylor. Oh, God. So all those times when she _thought_ she was appealing to Rachel, she was just reminded Rachel of Taylor. _God_.

“Can I use your shower?” Quinn asked quietly.

Rachel hesitated. “Of course,” she said. “But…” she trailed off, unsure how she would address it. “Okay,” she said. “All right.” She squeezed Quinn’s hands. “You can borrow something of mine to sleep in, and then we’re going to sleep and tomorrow we’re going to figure out what we’re going to do, okay?”

Quinn nodded. “Okay.”

\--

Quinn spent so much time at Rachel’s house, she had her own set of toiletries in Rachel’s bathroom. Her own toothbrush, her own loofah, her own hairbrush. She brushed her teeth first to get out the taste of vomit and then stepped into the shower. She scrubbed her skin as ferociously as she could and turned on the water as hot as she could bear it. She was in there a long time-- the water had turned cold and she was just standing there under a cold stream of water thinking about…she couldn’t _un_ see those pictures. She thought about Rachel, young and completely helpless and trusting and completely vulnerable to her sister and to her father.

Rachel never stood a chance.

She sank down into a crouch and just cried as the water hit her back.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat like that, but then the shower door opened and the water was shut off. Rachel climbed in behind her and wrapped a towel around Quinn’s back. She rubbed Quinn’s arms with the towel.

“Come on,” Rachel said, helping Quinn stand up.

She must have been crouched like that for a long time because her knees and thighs were sore.

They stepped out of the shower together and Rachel dried Quinn off-- she was so gentle, Quinn wanted to cry. “Come on,” Rachel said, guiding Quinn into the bedroom. She helped Quinn dress into a pair of fleece pajamas which were slightly too small for Quinn, but since they were a little too large for Rachel, they were still comfortable. “Come on,” Rachel said, pushing Quinn onto the bed so that Quinn sat at the foot of it. “It’s okay, honey,” she crooned as she brushed Quinn’s hair. “It’s all going to be okay. I’m going to take care of you tonight, okay, sweetheart? It’s all going to be okay.”

Quinn shut her eyes. It was not going to be okay.

When Rachel was done, she wrapped a blanket around Quinn. She got on the floor, on her knees, and peered up into Quinn’s eyes. “I promise you,” she whispered. “It’s going to be okay. But just stay with me, okay? Talk to me.”

Quinn’s face trembled. Even after everything, Rachel was still so sweet to her. Too sweet.

“ _Rachel_ ,” Quinn said, her voice breaking. She sank to the ground and grabbed Rachel into a tight hug, squeezing so hard she wondered if she was causing Rachel more anguish than she already had. But she couldn’t let go. “Rachel,” she sobbed. “Rachel.”

She couldn’t let go, but Rachel didn’t let her go, either.

\--

Rachel awoke a few hours later with Quinn still pressed against her. Rachel sighed softly, and stroked Quinn’s cheek, but pulled away.

She sat up, her feet touching the floor, her back to Quinn. She reached for her phone on her nightstand and called Taylor.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly when Taylor picked up.

“Yeah,” Taylor said, her voice hoarse. “Are you?”

“Yes,” Rachel said quietly. “I won’t tell, you know. I’ll make sure she doesn’t tell either.”

“I’m leaving today,” Taylor said softly. “I’m going back to Japan. I don’t think I’m going to come back.”

“Quinn told me everything,” Rachel said quietly. “I understand why you did it. It all makes more sense now. But I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Don’t try to contact me.”

Taylor was quiet for a long moment. “I won’t.”

“I loved you,” Rachel whispered. “I would have done anything you told me to, even with him. You lied to me.”

“It’s done now, Rachel.”

It made sense to Rachel now what Taylor meant when she said _He’s gone now. It’s all going to be okay now_ after Russell died. It’d been puzzling to her at the time, but now it made sense.

“I know it wasn’t your fault,” Rachel said quietly. “I know he made you.”

Taylor sounded like she was crying. “Yeah.”

“But I hate you now.”

“I hate you, too, you little bitch,” Taylor whispered.

Rachel flinched because as much as she hated Taylor at the moment, it still hurt to be called a bitch by someone she once loved so much. If she were being honest, she still loved Taylor. “I don’t want to see or hear from you again.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Taylor said softly. “I promise.”

“Good luck, Tay,” Rachel said quietly. “This is the last time we’re ever going to talk,” she said sadly.

“Good bye, Rachel. I really did love you.”

“I know,” Rachel said quietly. “I loved you, too.”

Rachel hung up and set the phone on her nightstand.

A sob escaped her throat and she covered her mouth with her hands. Why did Taylor do this to her?

“Rach?”

Quinn’s hand was on her back and Rachel forced herself to smile. For whatever she lost, Quinn had lost even more. She turned around.

“Hey,” Rachel said cheerfully. “You’re awake. I was thinking we could get some breakfast. What do you think?” Rachel wasn’t hungry, but she wanted to keep to routine.

Quinn looked at her closely. “You’re crying.”

Rachel waved her had dismissively. “PMS. Anyway, are you hungry?”

“No,” Quinn said flatly. She didn’t think she would ever eat again.

“Breakfast is very important, Quinn” Rachel said primly. “I know we don’t have anything in the house, so let’s go out to eat.”

“I’m not hungry, Rachel. And you’re _crying_.”

Rachel gave Quinn a frail smile. “I think routine is important right now, Quinn. Can we just get breakfast and pretend like it’s any other day for a while? I’ll steal bacon from your plate when you aren’t looking and you’ll steal my hashbrowns.”

“I knew you were stealing my bacon,” Quinn said with a small smile that she managed to force out.

“Let’s go,” Rachel said quietly.

\--

They got dressed and went out to breakfast, but they spent it in glum silence and neither of them could eat. The waitress clucked her tongue disapprovingly when they declined boxes to take food home and set down the bill in front of them.

Rachel reached for it, only to have it snatched away by Quinn.

“Please don’t,” Quinn said quietly. “I’ve already taken too much from you.”

“Quinn…” Rachel said weakly. But she didn’t know what to say because nothing she could say seemed to make Quinn feel better.

When they got back to Rachel’s house, Quinn got out of Rachel’s car and walked to hers. She remotely unlocked it and opened the door, ready to climb inside. She didn’t want to go home to her mother and her sister, but how could she keep staying with Rachel?

“Quinn, please…stay. Don’t go.”

Quinn’s eyes watered. Then she caught sight of the grocery bag with Rachel’s books and DVDs-- things she borrowed from Rachel and never gave back. Things she _took_. She grabbed it and shoved it at Rachel who was cautiously stepping toward her.

“This is yours,” Quinn rasped. “I don’t want to take anything more from you!” she cried. “This is yours. I should have given it back, but I never did and I’m _so_ sorry for that. I should have given it back!”

Rachel swallowed hard and took the proffered grocery bag in one arm and held it to her chest. She reached out with her free hand to clasp Quinn by the arm and led her back into the house.

\--

Quinn spent a couple weeks alternately ignoring her mother and calling her mother names. She refused to go home, but she knew she couldn’t stay gone forever.

She stayed with Rachel for two weeks before she finally cooled down enough to go home. She’d gone with Rachel to pick up some clothes, but she hadn’t spent any time there.

During those two weeks, she got closer to Rachel than ever, which felt strange because she thought Rachel should be running in the opposite direction. If it were her, she’d be running in the opposite direction.

“When I look at you,” Rachel said quietly. “You’re all I see. Just you. No one else, just you.”

But Quinn knew that had to be a lie because if it were true, Rachel wouldn’t have told her that she reminded Rachel too much of Taylor.

\--

She stepped into her mother’s house after staying with Rachel for two weeks and rushed to the bathroom to throw up.

Her mother hovered solicitously by the door.

“Are you all right, Quinnie?”

“I hate you.”

She’d never spoken to either of parents like that before-- for all of her mistakes, she was a girl raised on the Bible and Sunday school. She was all about ‘honor thy father and thy mother’. She honored them both regardless of how they treated her. She honored thy father and thy mother until now.

\--

She and her mother became strangers in the same home. Her sister was long gone. Taylor left her a letter on her bed, but Quinn tore it up and threw it away without reading it.

\--

It wasn’t long before the secret started to tear her apart. Just a couple weeks. How had Rachel kept it for so long? Quinn didn’t know who she could confide in. Rachel begged her to keep it to herself, but Quinn could feel herself unraveling.

Finally, the day before school started again, Quinn ran into Brittany who was miraculously without Santana the way she herself was miraculously without Rachel.

“What’s wrong?” Brittany asked softly, all dumb blonde pretences gone leaving behind the girl who was genuinely a good friend.

Quinn’s lip trembled and she followed Brittany home. Brittany kicked her little sister out of the room they shared and then Quinn and Brittany had some privacy.

“My sister and dad molested someone,” Quinn admitted quietly. “A long time ago. But they did it for a long time. Mostly my sister molested this person.”

To her credit, Brittany’s reaction was mercifully muted.

Brittany paused. “Someone we know?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

Brittany paused again. “Rachel?” she ventured, because Brittany knew Taylor used to babysitter Rachel.

Quinn’s eyes welled with tears. She didn’t have to confirm or deny because Brittany had obviously figured it out.

“I’m in love with her,” Quinn admitted quietly. “I’m in love with Rachel and my sister and my dad molested her for five years.”

Brittany looked at her sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Quinn,” she said softly.

“What am I going to do, Brittany?” Quinn asked helplessly.

What could she do to ever make it better?

“I don’t know,” Brittany said quietly. She pulled Quinn into a hug and just let Quinn cry.

\--

Before she left she asked Brittany if Taylor or her father ever tried to do anything with Brittany or Santana since Brittany and Santana had been fixtures in the Fabray house when they were all growing up. Brittany shook her head “no” and said as far as she knew, neither of them ever tried anything with Santana, either, and she was sure Santana would tell her.

It was a small relief-- too small.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Quinn begged. “Rachel doesn’t want anyone to know.”

Brittany crossed her heart. “I promise.”

\--

Quinn and Rachel started to spend less time together, though neither of them commented on it. She told Rachel that nothing changed, but the truth is, everything had.

\--

It was a frigid January day, just a couple weeks into the new school semester when Quinn’s mother abruptly walked into the room.

“What are you doing here?” Quinn asked venomously.

“I just got off the phone with Rachel’s father,” Judy said quietly. “I informed him about what’s going on.”

Quinn stared at her. That was unexpected.

“We both agreed that going to the authorities would be the worst thing we could do, because it would bring far too much scrutiny on both our families about what was going on then.”

Quinn sneered at her. “You mean when your other daughter and your husband molested a five year old? And then did it for the next _five_ years? And how you covered it up? You mean _that_ , Mom?”

Judy flinched. “Rachel’s parents are not perfect either,” she said quietly. “Her father was very concerned about his spouse’s…problem coming to light, particularly because it is a problem he still has. We both feel that what happened to Rachel is terrible, but nothing good will come of going to the authorities. Her father and I have come to an arrangement.”

Quinn stared at her mother. “And what’s that?” she asked contemptuously.

“If Rachel should want to seek out therapy for…what happened, our family will pay for its cost, regardless of how long it should take. Edward has spoken to Rachel and Rachel has declined therapy at this time, but if Rachel should want it, cost will be no object. I’ve also assured Edward that I will not allow any contact between Taylor and Rachel.”

Quinn sneered, outraged. “That’s it? Nothing happens to Taylor?”

“Quinn, do you want your sister to go to jail?”

“Yes,” Quinn snapped. “And don’t call her that. The fact that we’re _related_ makes me want to puke. So you and Rachel’s dad get to come up with this and everything just goes away? Is that it?”

“He was more than willing to go along with it, Quinn. And Rachel was, too.”

Quinn shook her head. She just didn’t understand how the world worked anymore.

\--

The next day, she found Rachel at her locker before school.

“Hey,” she said, coming up to her. “Can we get out of here and talk?”

Rachel stared at her for a moment and then nodded wordlessly.

\--

They ran to the parking lot hand-in-hand. Rachel’s car was closer, so Rachel drove. They left as most students were coming into the parking lot.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Just drive,” Quinn said quietly.

\--

They drove around in silence for a while until Rachel finally pulled into the parking lot of Faurot Park.

“I want things to go back to the way they were,” Rachel said quietly. “You don’t look at me anymore. Everything’s changed. You say nothing’s changed, but everything’s changed.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m still the same person,” she said softly. “I know what I did, but I’m still the same person.”

Quinn shut her eyes. “ _You_ didn’t do anything,” she whispered. “Nothing’s changed for me, at least, not how I feel about you. You’re my best friend.” And God help her, but Quinn still wanted Rachel desperately.

“Then why is everything different between us?” Rachel asked desperately.

Quinn leaned back in the seat and put her hands over her face. “I can’t help it. I keep thinking about what they did. “

“It was a long time ago,” Rachel said quietly. “Please. Try to forget about it.”

“I can’t,” Quinn whispered. She turned her head to look at Rachel. “Tell me what she did to you,” she begged, reaching for Rachel. She knew that Rachel didn’t remember--hadn’t even known what her father did to Rachel, but Rachel surely remembered what Taylor did.

“Quinn,” Rachel said quietly. “I don’t see why I need to be graphic with you. It happened. That’s all.”

Quinn shut her eyes. She didn’t know how they would ever get through this. She felt like she lost her family and her best friend.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Maybe,” Rachel said cautiously. “What would you like to know?”

“Why did you agree to that arrangement my mom and your dad worked out?”

Rachel bit her lower lip. “I thought it was best for all of us,” she said quietly. “No one is going to benefit from going about this punitively. I think we all need to move on with our lives.”

Quinn looked away. “I just can’t feel the same way,” she whispered.

Rachel looked at her sadly. “I’m going to leave Lima in a few months,” she said quietly. Before all this blew up in their faces, they’d applied to schools in New York and California together and she’d kind of had her heart set on going to college in the same state with Quinn. “Are you going to come with me?”

Quinn released a shaky breath. “Yes,” she breathed.

“We’re going to forget all about this,” Rachel said quietly. “Okay? We’re going to leave and we’re going to move on.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “Okay.”

Rachel reached for Quinn’s hand. “I love you,” she murmured. She leaned over and brushed her lips to Quinn’s in a too-brief, too-sweet peck. “We’re going to be okay. As long as we’re in this together, it’s going to be okay.”

Quinn closed her eyes. “Okay.”

“Do you believe me?”

Quinn sighed quietly. “Yes.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I trust you,” Quinn said quietly. She didn’t have a choice. She’d just have to trust Rachel for this.

“It’s going to be okay,” Rachel said, squeezing Quinn’s hand. “I promise you. I’m going to make things okay.”

Quinn squeezed back. “Okay.”


	9. Chapter 9

 

Rachel didn’t know why Judy Fabray couldn’t leave well enough alone. She and Quinn were handling it, so she didn’t get why Mrs. Fabray felt the need to get involved.

She was home alone one day, which was completely typical, when her father came home early from the hospital, which was decidedly atypical. He sat down with her and he…he just knew too much-- so much that she couldn’t deny it. They both cried for a while. She cried even harder when he asked her why she never told, that he would have absolutely intervened to help her. She didn’t have an answer for that. He kept asking her ‘why didn’t you tell?’ but she didn’t know what to say. It seemed so stupid now to be afraid of the threats of a fourteen year old, but it was really different when you were five. He kept asking her why she never told after being taught relentlessly about good touch and bad touch, and private parts and all that stuff. He just kept asking her and she just felt so bad for disappointing him, but she just didn’t have an answer. She didn’t know why she didn’t tell other than the fact she was too scared to say anything. But looking back on it, all those fears just seemed so stupid. But it didn’t seem so stupid to her at the time.

The more she talked to him, the more she realized that he only knew about Taylor, he didn’t know about Mr. Fabray, which was kind of a relief, because she’d had years to think about what happened with Taylor, but she just hadn’t had enough time to process the new information about Russell Fabray, so she didn’t need Dad knowing about it, too. But he seemed to know what Mr. Fabray did to Taylor and seemed to have a measure of sympathy for it.

“It’s okay, Dad,” she told him quietly. “It’s over now.”

“I’m so sorry, baby,” and he cried a little so she knew he was sincere.

“It’s okay, Dad.”

“Baby, I understand why you might want to talk the police about this, but Judy Fabray and I discussed it and we feel it’s best if we deal with this within our families.”

“I agree, Dad,” Rachel said quietly. “And I don’t want to talk to the police or anyone else for that matter.”

She genuinely believed Taylor when Taylor told her she was the only one. She thought maybe there were others for Russell Fabray, but he was dead now, and Rachel was tired of being noble and thinking of others. She needed to protect herself and the people she loved. Maybe it was wrong of her-- it probably was, but she just needed to save herself right now.

“I want you to understand why we feel this way,” he said softly. “If we were to go to the authorities, it wouldn’t do anything. Taylor is in Japan, and she’s not going to be punished as long as she stays there. All it will do is bring scrutiny on our family. I don’t care so much about what happens to the Fabrays--”

“I do,” Rachel interrupted quietly. “Quinn is my best friend. I want to make this easy for all of us. Whatever needs to be done, Dad.”

He gave her a tiny smile and put his arm around her. “If we go to the authorities with this now, all it will do is bring scrutiny on our family, and we can’t have that while Daddy is in California getting better. The police will want to know why we didn’t protect you better and I will never forgive myself for letting this happen to you, but I can’t lose you, baby. They’ll want to know why Daddy and I couldn’t protect you and they’ll take you away from us.”

“I know,” Rachel said quietly.

“You know that Child Protective Services is just aching to pounce on us, they always have ever since that first investigation.”

“I know, Dad,” Rachel said softly.

“And they’ll wonder why Judy couldn’t protect Taylor. Taylor is an adult now, but Quinn is still a minor and Judy doesn’t want any scrutiny either. We’re just trying to keep our families together, baby. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Dad,” Rachel said quietly. “And I agree this is for the best.”

He smiled at her. “Thank you, baby. I called Daddy and told him what happened. He’s coming home tonight.”

She perked up. “He is?”

He smiled. “He is. Of course he is, he loves you, baby. And he’s very worried and distraught about what happened. We’re going to be a family again.”

\--

She thought it would be better when Daddy came home-- she missed him so much and wanted to see him so badly, she never thought it would be even worse when Daddy came home.

Daddy and Dad fought constantly and relentlessly. She tried to ignore it, but she was making herself deaf by shoving the ear buds of her iPod into her ears and putting it on full blast.

They were fighting about her.

There was so much finger-pointing at one another.

Dad screamed at Daddy that it was all his fault for being a junkie. Daddy screamed at Dad that it was actually all his fault for being an alcoholic workaholic.

They cast blame at one another, but they were united when it came to emphasizing how important it was she stay quiet about everything because their family, their reputations, _everything_ was on the line. She started to feel a little betrayed like they were just trying to cover their own asses and didn’t care about what happened to her. And she was just _done_ telling them she didn’t know why she never told. What did they think? If they kept asking her, she’d eventually remember something? She had her reasons, and they were private and she didn’t need people badgering her about why she never told. She never told! It’s not like she could change the past now. It’s not like them asking her ‘why’ would change anything.

She was pretty sure they wished she would just go away, but she would go away soon enough. She was pretty sure that all this was just an imposition on their busy lives and she didn’t need them to do her any favors and make any adjustments to their schedules. She just wanted them to leave her alone.

Within a month of Daddy coming home, he was gone again, and this time, he wasn’t going to come back.

“I love you and Dad, baby,” Daddy said. “It’s just that Dad and I aren’t working out anymore. But you’ll visit me whenever you want.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Rachel said.

But she was counting down the days until she could leave. Once she left, she was never coming back.

She was so close, all she had to do was hold on a little more.

\--

Quinn became her rock, her constant. It was hard at first-- Quinn seemed to have a hard time when they spent time together, which made Rachel sad because it’d always been so easy before. But the more time they spent together, the easier it became to pretend that nothing wrong happened and things went back to the way they were before.

Rachel just wanted to pretend that none of it happened. She didn’t like the way Quinn looked at her sometimes, or the way Daddy looked at her with apology and regret. She just wanted to pretend like everything was normal, like _she_ was normal.  
\--

“You’re stealing all the blankets,” Rachel complained early one morning. “And this is my bed. And it’s February, which everyone knows is the coldest month. Why are you trying to murder me via hypothermia?”

“Too bad,” Quinn murmured. “I’m cold and you’re the one who says you’re like a furnace with your unnaturally high body temperature. And anyway, didn’t you just give me a lecture about global warming last night when I forgot to recycle that can? You can’t have it both ways, you leftwing liberal.”

“Quinn, you and I both know that global warming is not only responsible for unseasonably warm weather, but--“ she trailed off when she saw the way Quinn grinned, eyes still closed and face still pressed into her pillow. She knew Quinn was just mocking her, so she dropped the outrage over global warming and focused on her more immediate problem. “I’m cold,” Rachel complained, inching closer to Quinn.

“Stay on your side of the bed, Berry,” Quinn muttered.”This bed isn’t big enough for the both of us and since you wouldn’t let me draw a line of masking tape down it, I’m not above throwing you off it.”

“I’m cold,” Rachel complained again. She ignored the threats of physical violence to put her feet on Quinn’s legs.

Quinn shrieked. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “What did you do? Dunk your feet in ice?” She could feel Rachel’s frigid feet through her pajamas bottoms. Her fleece pajama bottoms.

“This is why I need more blankets than you.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “You’re the blanket hog. I was just giving you a glimpse of how you treat me.”

“I’m sufficiently chastened,” Rachel murmured.

Quinn grinned. “Okay, you can invade my side of the bed now.”

Rachel grinned back and cuddled up to Quinn. “Was that so hard?”

“It’s a tremendous sacrifice.”

Rachel swatted at Quinn’s stomach. “Big liar.”

Quinn laughed softly. “Go back to sleep. It’s early and you’re annoying me with your early rising.”

“I should get on the elliptical.”

“You should go back to sleep.”

Her bed was warm and comfortable and she could feel Quinn’s body heat and while she knew she should get out of bed and get on the elliptical, at the moment, she couldn’t be forced out of her bed by obligation or tempted out by seduction.

Quinn spent most of her time at Rachel’s house now, because she didn’t want to go home. She still slept there a couple nights a week, but she slept at Rachel’s house, in Rachel’s bed at least four, sometimes five nights a week.

Rachel knew she should offer Quinn the guest room, but she didn’t because she liked having Quinn close to her.

She couldn’t ignore the attraction she felt for Quinn anymore, no matter how much she wished it would go away. The attraction had been there for a long time-- confusing her because of all the things she still felt for Taylor. But she couldn’t deny that she was attracted to Quinn or what it meant that she always wanted Quinn to be near. She couldn’t deny that when she lay in bed with Quinn, she breathed in that scent she’d come to recognize as uniquely Quinn’s and not…not anyone else’s.

She didn’t know what she wanted other than she knew she wanted Quinn, but she didn’t know what she wanted _from_ Quinn and she didn’t know what she could possibly give Quinn in return. She just…she didn’t know. But she knew there was more to her feelings for Quinn than mere friendship.

The plus side to all of this was the fact that she and Quinn basically had carte blanche to do whatever they wanted, so they essentially ran their own programs, at least at home. It’d always been that way for her, but now Mrs. Fabray let Quinn do whatever she wanted, which Quinn seemed to revel in some degree of bitter triumph.

She’d meant it when she told Quinn that she loved her. But they hadn’t talked about it.

Since everything came out, they’d talked about everything else-- about Quinn’s mother, father and sister, about her own fathers. She’d told Quinn a lot of what she could remember back then and she’d asked for details about what Quinn’s childhood had been like, for anecdotes about Russell _and_ Taylor, so that Rachel could understand it all a little better. She tried to answer whatever questions Quinn had for her, though she had to sanitize them for Quinn’s benefit, and for her own. Quinn answered all the questions she had, too, and she wondered if Quinn also sanitized her responses. Sometimes complete honesty was too cruel.

They’d cried together through endlessly sleepless nights and talked until their throats were sore, but they didn’t talk about _I love you_.

They said it to one another almost every night, because they spent almost every night together.

I love you.

I love you, too.

It varied who said it first. It varied when it was said-- sometimes after Letterman, sometimes right before they went to sleep, sometimes after dinner when they were doing the second round of homework assignments for the night, but it was always uttered, and always uttered back.

I love you.

I love you, too.

What did it mean?.

I love you.

I love you, too.

Rachel knew philosophers had been trying to figure out the meaning of love for centuries, and that was all very well and good. She had some of her own theories of love, stuff about perfumed handwritten letters, heartfelt admissions of love at midnight, and a possible moment of almost-domestic-violence leading to rough, but satisfying sex. She knew that last one was a little too specific and probably a product of her admittedly twisted mind, but it was a thought she had anyway. So she knew there was no real consensus about the meaning of love and that’s why there were so many songs, essays and dissertations devoted to its ideas and permutations of it, but Rachel Berry didn’t care much about extrapolating to the general populace.

She didn’t really care about formulating a definition of love that would be applicable for everyone.

No. Rachel only cared about figuring out what _I love you/ I love you, too_ meant for her and Quinn.

“I love you,” Rachel told Quinn quietly as they drifted off to sleep.

“I love you, too,” Quinn whispered back.

She meant it when she said it, every time that she said it, but she wasn’t fully certain what that meant, other than seeing Quinn sometimes made her heart clench and stole her ability to breathe. She didn’t know what it meant other than Quinn’s hand squeezing hers made her feel like there was nothing wrong in the world. She didn’t know what it meant other than Quinn hugging her and kissing her cheek made her feel safer than she _ever_ had in her entire life and feeling safe was one of the most important things in the world to her.

She didn’t know exactly what _I love you_ meant, but she knew she meant it.

\--

Valentine’s Day landed on a Tuesday that year. She brushed off Quinn mocking her for wearing a red dress in celebration of the holiday, but went along with it when Quinn told her the white heart earrings were a bit too much.

It was like any other school day, except that Brittany and Santana were being extra touchy-feely with one another and began dry humping in Mr. Schuester’s class like they were fourteen year olds. That was kind of gross, but strangely scintillating at the same time. Rachel was a teenage girl with ordinary sort of teenage girl needs and if it weren’t for the fact she wanted Quinn with a fervor she’d never experienced for anyone else, Rachel would _totally_ start sleeping with Brittany and Santana again, because _hello_ , they were hot and they still asked.

But she couldn’t imagine sleeping with anyone else when she had feelings for Quinn. She decided Valentine’s Day in glee was as good a time and place as any for communicating her feelings for Quinn. She’d told Quinn once _I can’t_ when Quinn revealed feelings for her, but that was then and this was now. Enough time had passed and Rachel felt like she could. She hoped Quinn still felt the same way, that the attraction was still mutual.

She got up to sing in glee and she chose a song she knew she had significance for both her and for Quinn.

“Moving forward using all my breath…”

She conceded she might not have the right voice to sing it the Modern English way, but she was reasonably (completely) certain (confident) that she could pull off (rock) the Nouvelle Vague version. This song had kind of become her song with Quinn, at least in her mind, and when she sang, she intended it for Quinn. It was an imperfect message for all the feelings and things she wanted to convey to Quinn, but Rachel had yet to find a song that could, so she settled for one she knew carried weight for them. Besides it was close enough.

“I’ll stop the world and melt with you…”

She looked at Quinn while she sang and Quinn was looking back at her, smiling encouragingly, but it seemed a little forced.

Once she was finished, everyone clapped and she caught Quinn’s gaze.

Quinn smiled at her, but she didn’t look entirely happy. It made Rachel’s heart sink and the spark of joy she always felt in receiving the praise of her teammates was diminished because the one person whose opinion really mattered to her, at least in terms of the delivery of this song, did not seem impressed or pleased.

Rachel faltered in her step before she sat down again. She kept glancing at Quinn through the rest of practice, but Quinn wasn’t looking back at her, which was unusual, because Quinn was always looking back.  
\--

“I’ll stop the world and melt with you,” Rachel sang as she walked with Quinn into her house. “You’ve seen the difference, and it’s getting better all the time.”

Quinn smiled at her. “I love that song,” she said quietly.

“Me too,” Rachel said with a grin. She leaned into Quinn. “I have a confession,” she murmured.

“What’s that?” Quinn asked softly.

“I sang that song for you.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “I know.”

The smile faded from Rachel’s face.

Quinn wasn’t smiling.

\--

“I can’t forget what they did to you,” Quinn said quietly, once they settled into Rachel’s room to talk. “I can’t forget. I can’t…I can’t go there with you, Rachel. I just…I can’t do it. I can’t do it knowing what they did.”

Rachel stared at her. “Because you think…I’m…” she swallowed hard. “What? Dirty?” she asked. “Disgusting? Untouchable? Revolting?” she whispered, and she couldn’t believe she was voicing all of her private fears, all the secret things she whispered to herself when she looked in a mirror.

Quinn’s eyes were wide, horrified. “ _No_!” she exclaimed. “God, of course not. I would never think that about you,” she said. “You…you’re _perfect_ ,” she said sincerely. “You’re beautiful and you’re perfect.”

Rachel looked away, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “But what do you see when you look at me?” she whispered.

“I see you,” Quinn said quietly. “And I won’t ever look away.”

Rachel turned back to look at her. “Okay,” she said softly.

“It doesn’t change how I feel about you,” Quinn said weakly. “I love you. You’re my best friend. I don’t know how I would have lived through these last few months without you. But I can’t stop thinking about what they did.” Quinn winced and gripped her head with her hands. “I wish I could scrub out what I saw out of my mind,” Quinn whispered, because those pictures were disgusting and traumatizing. But those images were not only burned into her mind, but burned into her retinas.

“I’m sorry you found out,” Rachel said quietly. It didn’t feel like she could ever stop apologizing for that.

“I’m not sorry I know,” Quinn said. “Those were things I needed to know. I needed to know, Rachel. And God. _I’m_ so sorry. If I could trade places with you, if I could fix it, I--”

“Don’t say that,” Rachel said quietly. “I’m glad it was me and not you.”

Quinn flinched. “Rachel.”

Rachel shrugged. “She was your sister and he was your father. Studies have shown it would have been worse for you.”

Quinn couldn’t help smile. “Studies, huh?”

“I’ve done some research,” Rachel admitted. “I guess I needed to know why Taylor did it.”

Quinn’s face hardened. “I don’t care why she did it. And neither should you.”

“She’s not a bad person, Quinn.”

“She’s a horrible person!”

“I understand her a little more now, and--”

Quinn was horrified. “Oh my God, are you talking to her?!” Have you been talking to her again? Is that why you’re defending her?”

Quinn refused to talk to her sister. It was bad enough she still had to acknowledge her mother. She couldn’t wait to get out of that house because once she left, she was never going back.

“No,” Rachel said hastily. “No, of course not. Just because I have an understanding of why she did it does not mean I wish to be in communication with her, Quinn. But I’m merely trying to tell you that I understand her a little more now. I have copies of studies which might make her behavior a little more understandable for you, if you wish to read them.”

“I don’t care about understanding her,” Quinn snapped viciously. “She took you from me! She _stole_ you! After everything she did, who gives a _shit_ about understanding what she did! I don’t care! I never would have done it! You never would have done it! I don’t give a shit about understanding her!”

“She was fourteen when it first started with me,” Rachel said quietly, “that’s younger than we both are now. And your father had influence in that. She--”

“You were five!” Quinn snapped. “You were five. I don’t care what happened to her or why she did it. I care about what she did to _you_. She wasn’t just some fourteen year old kid, Rachel. She was almost ninteen when she left, she was an adult and you were a kid.”

Rachel bowed her head. “I know that,” she said softly.

“She stole you from me,” Quinn whispered pitifully. She knew she shouldn’t look at it that way, but she did. “I keep thinking about what she did to you and I…”

Rachel looked regretful. “You can’t go there with me.”

Quinn lowered her eyes. “No, I can’t,” she said quietly.

“Is it because she was there first?” Rachel asked softly, “because virginity isn’t the big deal you think it is, Quinn.”

“It’s because my sister and my father molested you,” Quinn said bluntly, but as gently as she could. Rachel still winced. “You shouldn’t even want to _touch_ me,” Quinn whispered.

“I love you,” Rachel said quietly.

“I love you, too.” Quinn sighed. “It was easier when you couldn’t go there either.”

Rachel swallowed hard. “Because when I see you, you’re all I see now. I don’t look at you and think of Taylor or your dad. I look at you and I see _you_. But when you look at me, you still see them.”

“That’s not true,” Quinn refuted, except, it kind of was.

Rachel gave her a sad smile. “Yes, it is,” she said quietly. She took a deep breath. “It’s okay though,” she said softly. “It takes time and I can wait.” She gave Quinn a tiny smile. “I understand why you can’t do this with me because for a long time, I couldn’t do this with you either, even though I really wanted to. But I’m ready now and I think one day you’ll be ready, too.” She paused. “At least, I have to hope you’ll be ready one day.” She reached out and squeezed Quinn’s shoulder. “I’m not going to join a nunnery or anything,” she joked, which made Quinn laugh softly. “But I’m capable of waiting.”

Quinn grabbed Rachel into a tight hug. “Don’t give up on me,” Quinn pleaded.

Rachel sighed softly. She never gave up on what she really wanted. “Don’t you remember? We’re in this together, partner.”

Rachel really didn’t have any other choice, because, really, what was the alternative? Find someone else, when the person she really wanted was right there in front of her? What good would that do anyone?

Quinn just needed some time to adjust to everything, and Rachel could certainly afford to give her that. It _hurt_ , but Rachel knew she could do it.

\--

She understood where Quinn was coming from-- really, she did, but it was pretty devastating anyway. Rachel didn’t know what she was expecting, but she’d gotten her hopes a little too high. She didn’t want to let on how much it crushed her, but it was pretty crushing.

She never let on though. She still hung out with Quinn every single day, and slept in the same bed with the blonde even though the once comfortable proximity was now painful because Quinn was so close, Rachel could breathe her in. She tried not to let anything change because the last thing she needed was to lose Quinn as a friend.

But it was hard. It wasn’t hard on par with being waterboarded or anything, but it was still exceptionally hard, and much harder than Rachel anticipated.  
\--

During the third week of February, they both got acceptances to their first choice colleges-- Julliard for Rachel, of course, and NYU for Quinn and they celebrated with a pricey dinner on Judy Fabray’s dime and alcohol stolen out of Rachel’s father’s liquor cabinet.

Rachel smiled at Quinn because she knew they were going to leave Lima together and stay out.

“New York needs to lock up its fuckables because we’re headed its way,” Rachel joked with a grin when they were back in her room, getting ready for bed.

Quinn laughed. “Yeah,” she said dryly. “You’re a real bad ass,” she teased fondly.

Rachel smiled. “In New York,” she sang. “Concrete jungle where dreams are made of, there’s nothing you can’t do, now you’re in New York.”

Quinn chuckled. “These streets will make you feel brand new,” she sang, joining in. “Big lights will inspire you, let’s hear it for New York,” she sang, moving her hips a little as she remembered that song- and-dance routine in the quad so long ago.

Rachel stared as Quinn rolled her hips which made her butt swing. She swallowed hard because her throat and mouth suddenly went dry

Too much. She wanted Quinn too much.

Rachel had to look away

\--

A few days later, she was at Quinn’s house picking up some more clothes-- Quinn had all but moved in, and so her closet space had moved into the guest room as well, but for whatever reason, Quinn herself had not. She still occupied Rachel’s bed, and Rachel had to wonder if it was as hard for Quinn as it was for her. Were they both masochists? Probably.

“Hello, Rachel. Hello, Quinn,” Judy said quietly, as she stood in the doorway of Quinn’s room.

“Hi, Mrs. Fabray,” Rachel greeted politely. She didn’t know what to think of Judy, but she didn’t feel the same level of betrayal that Quinn and Taylor did, and her instinct to be polite to her elders was too ingrained for her to be able to ignore someone the way Quinn ignored her mother.

“How are you, Rachel?”

“I’m very well, thank you. I’m very excited about my admission to Julliard, and of course, I ‘m very proud of Quinn for her admission to NYU.”

Judy’s eyes lit up. “Quinn! That’s wonderful! Congratulations.”

Rachel watched as Quinn looked up just to shoot her mother a withering look. Quinn rolled her eyes and snorted, but she didn’t say anything.

“You should give me the financial aid information,” Judy said quietly. “So we can--”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Quinn spat out. “I’ll take out every loan on the planet and work every free moment, but I’m not taking anything from you.”

“Quinn--”

“ _Don’t_ talk to me,” Quinn snapped. “You don’t have anything to say that I would want to hear, so don’t talk to me!”

Rachel swallowed hard, wondering why the earth never opened up to swallow her whole to spare her from excruciatingly awkward moments like this.

Quinn grabbed some more things from her closet, clutching clothes on hangers close to her chest. She glared at Rachel. “Rachel, hurry up,” she snapped.

Rachel swallowed hard. “Okay,” she said quietly. She smiled apologetically at Judy. “I’m so--”

“Don’t you dare apologize to her!” Quinn snapped. “Don’t you _dare_. Don’t ever apologize to her! She should be apologizing to you!”

Rachel stopped speaking and stared at the ground. She felt Quinn bump past her as the blonde stormed out of the room.

“Rachel! Let’s go!” Quinn shouted as she stomped down the stairs.

Mrs. Fabray looked so sad and she looked so much like the girl Rachel once loved and the girl she loved now, that Rachel couldn’t resist. She touched Judy’s forearm. “Nothing bad lasts forever,” Rachel said quietly. “Quinn has a really good, really forgiving heart. She’ll come around. You’ll see. It’s going to be better.”

Judy’s smile was strained and she reached out to touch Rachel’s cheek. “I don’t think so,” she said quietly. “But thank you for saying it.”

Rachel ran to join her friend and found Quinn stuffing her clothes into the backseat.

“Quinn, why don’t I drive?” Rachel said. It was Quinn’s car, but Quinn seemed way too upset to drive. “You’re very upset and emotional--”

“I’m fine,” Quinn snapped. She got into the car. “Don’t lecture me. Get in the car.”

Rachel swallowed hard. “Quinn, let me drive.”

“Get in the car, Rachel!” Quinn snapped. She put on her seatbelt and started the engine.

“Quinn--”

“Get in the car, Rachel. Or walk.”

Rachel hesitated, but then she got into the car because she thought she could calm Quinn down as they drove and it really wasn’t that far.

The car started moving the moment she got in the car. Quinn was backing up far too quickly. They shot down the driveway like Quinn had her foot all the way down on the accelerator

“Quinn, let me put on my seat--”

There was a loud, angry honk and then Quinn slammed on her brakes. Rachel pitched forward, head slamming into the dashboard. The same velocity that pitched her forward shot her back and forward again, but this time, Rachel had enough time to throw her hands out and brace for impact.

“Fuck,” Rachel groaned, sitting back and rubbing her forehead and nose. She looked in the rearview mirror and saw that the car Quinn nearly backed into had already driven away.

“Oh my God,” Quinn whispered, breathing harshly. She put the car into ‘park’ and pulled the emergency brake. She stared at Rachel, wide-eyed. “Are you okay?” she asked. “Are you okay?” she repeated frantically.

Rachel winced. She was coming down with a headache, but other than that, it was no big deal. The impact wasn’t that hard and while Quinn had definitely used more speed than was required to back out of a driveway, the sudden stop wasn’t enough to deploy the airbags or anything. Although she really could have done without Quinn slamming on the brakes twice.

“I’m fine,” Rachel said crankily, cursing when she realized her nose was bleeding. “Are you calm now or do you need me to drive?”

Quinn swallowed hard. “I’m… I’m okay,” she said quietly, her face paler than normal. “Are… are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital or anything?”

“I’m fine, Quinn. Just give me a moment to put on my seatbelt.”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn whispered again.

“It’s fine,” Rachel said, pinching her nose and searching for some Kleenex. “Just drive.”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn whispered.

\--

Quinn dove back to Rachel’s house obeying all the traffic laws and going the posted speed limit. She drove as carefully as a first-time parent might drive with a newborn in the backseat. She drove with her hands clenched so tightly around the steering wheel, her knuckles turned white. She bent forward in an angle that could not be comfortable.

Quinn burst into tears when she pulled in front of Rachel’s house, and grabbed Rachel into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry,” she cried. “I’m so so sorry. I should have listened to you! I don’t know what I would have done if I hurt you!” She cried a little harder when she realized she actually had hurt Rachel. Her hand reached up to gently touch Rachel’s nose, which was still bleeding. “Oh God,” she said fretfully. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Really? I’m so…God, I’m so sorry! I should have listened to you!”  
  
Rachel chuckled softly and stroked Quinn’s hair. “Let’s just make that your mantra, okay, sweetheart?” she cooed softly, trying to comfort Quinn.

Quinn’s shoulders shook slightly with laughter. “I can’t believe you’re using this moment to I-told-you-so me.”

“Well, to be fair, I never used those words and secondly, you must confess, the situation is apt.”

Quinn laughed quietly and quickly sobered. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I’m so sorry. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Rachel smiled crookedly. “I’ll live,” she said dryly. She touched her fingers to Quinn’s cheek. “It’s okay, Quinn,” she whispered. “It’s fine. You and I, we’re always going to be just fine. Don’t you know that by now?”

Quinn gave her a small smile. “I guess I’m just a slow learner.”

Rachel smiled. “I suppose it’s a good thing then, that I am very very patient.”

“I’m a lucky girl,” Quinn said softly.

Rachel laughed. “You certainly are.”

“I’m a lucky girl to have a friend so humble,” Quinn joked.

Rachel grinned and tweaked Quinn’s nose. “You certainly are.” She smiled affectionately. “I’m a lucky girl, too.”

“We should start a club,” Quinn suggested with a tiny grin.

“With very exclusive membership policies,” Rachel said, playing along.

“Exactly,” Quinn said. “The membership requirements should be…” she pretended to think. “All members need to be five foot two, with brown hair, brown eyes with the first name Rachel, middle name Barbra, as in Streisand and last name, Berry.”

Rachel smiled crookedly. “And to ensure that people meet our rigorous screening practice, all five foot two Rachel Barbra Berrys need to be born on December 18, 1994.”

“Right,” Quinn said with a grin.

“These standards need to be very rigorous because we can’t have some other Rachel Barbra Berry attempt to ensnare the other fantastically-appealing members of our exclusive club.”

“Oh? And what are the qualifications of these other members?” Quinn asked with a smile. “What makes them so, and I quote, fantastically appealing?”

Rachel grinned slowly, ruefully, because sometimes she wished she didn’t love this girl quite so much. “Well, other than the Rachel Barbra Berry requirement, the other requirement would be five foot eight, blonde, hazel-eyed and named Quinn Fabray, born on April 17, 1994.”

Quinn chuckled. “And so the simple fact that Quinn Fabrays are five foot eight, blonde, hazel-eyed Aries makes them so ‘fantastically appealing’?”

Rachel cocked her head and smiled sincerely. “I’ve got a confession.”

“Oh?”

“Quinn Fabrays are so fantastically appealing to me because Quinn Fabray is my best friend,” Rachel said sincerely, “and as far as I know, there’s only one of her. And even if Quinn Fabray were one of the most common names in the world, like Joan Smith, she would still be the only one in the world for me.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “Rachel,” she whimpered. “Rachel, don’t. I…”

“I know you can’t right now,” Rachel said softly. “And that’s okay. But I just wanted you to know.” She smiled. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll help you carry your stuff in, we’ll hang up your clothes, do some homework and then you can buy me dinner for almost busting my nose which will undoubtedly be one of my trademarks when I become famous, along with, of course, my voice.”

Quinn shook her head and looked at Rachel fondly. “It is pretty amazing how so much noise can come from someone so small,” she remarked.

They hung up Quinn’s clothes in the closet of the guest room and then Quinn turned to Rachel and hugged her.

“I’m sorry I was an asshole,” Quinn apologized. “I don’t want to be that way, especially not to you. You know that I love you. I’m sorry I have such a shitty way of showing it sometimes,” she said quietly. “But I love you and you’re the most important person in the world to me.” She held onto Rachel a little tighter, like she never wanted to let the brunette go. “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much. I don’t know what I would do without you,” she said, brushing her lips against Rachel’s cheek. “Do you forgive me for being such an asshole today? I can’t stand the thought of you being mad at me.”

“Of course I forgive you,” Rachel said hoarsely. “There’s nothing to forgive,” she said, stroking Quinn’s hair.

Quinn held onto her and Rachel never felt safer than when she was in Quinn’s arms.

In a life that was kind of short on best moments, so the good moments were extra appreciated, Rachel counted that moment with Quinn as a highlight.

It almost made up for the disappointment Rachel felt for being shot down yet again. _Almost_ , because nothing could really make up for disappointment on that level. She really thought she had a chance to get through to Quinn that time. But clearly, it wasn’t enough. _She_ wasn’t enough.

\--

The rest of the school year passed in a blur. There was Sectionals, and then Quinn’s birthday, Spring Break, Regionals and then Nationals.

They won at Nationals, but the victory didn’t mean as much to Rachel as she thought it would. It’s not that it meant _nothing_ , of course. Rachel was still proud of all the work that she and her friends and teammates put into it, and when she was on that stage, she threw her entire heart into it, just like she always did, just like she threw her foolish dumb heart into everything she cared about. But when it was over, and the head judge announced that New Directions was taking home their first National title, it didn’t mean much to her when she couldn’t grab Quinn in her arms and kiss her senseless the way she desperately wanted.

\--

She snuck into the choir room a little early. She was supposed to meet the rest of the team in an hour for their traditional post-competition serenade to Mr. Schuester, but she just wanted some time in that room by herself. After all, it was going to be her last time in it. She did not have fond memories of Lima or of McKinley High, but she had many fond memories in that choir room.

She sat at the piano and practiced a few scales, chords and arpeggios to warm up and then played through a few songs. It didn’t really matter what they were, just that she had a chance to use this room while she still could.

She glanced at her watch. She still had half an hour before everyone else showed up.

She began to play.

“When I see you smile, it feels like I’m falling  
It’s not for anybody else to know  
The way your face could light, the bitter dark of every street  
In every town I’ll ever go  
It’s not for anybody else to know  
For anybody else to know.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the door to the choir room and Quinn come inside, closing the door behind her.

She smiled a greeting, but she didn’t stop playing or singing. She maintained eye contact with Quinn as she played and sang.

“When I see you smile, first thing in the morning,  
It raises curtains on your lazy eyes  
Could it be that you and I have the greatest love that could ever be?  
How could this have ever been before?  
It’s not for anybody else to know.”

Rachel smiled as Quinn began to step closer. Rachel scooted over to make some room on the piano bench and Quinn sat down next to her. The blonde rested her head on Rachel’s shoulder, blond hair tickling Rachel’s neck, which made the brunette smile at the sensation. Rachel couldn’t finish the song out, at least, she couldn’t sing anymore, but she continued to play until the song was finished.

“Don’t stop,” Quinn said quietly. “Keep playing,” she begged

“Okay,” Rachel said softly.

She chose a song she knew they both knew and they stayed that way, Quinn’s head on her shoulder, the two of them singing quietly, until the door to the choir room opened.

Quinn and Rachel pulled apart quickly and were relieved to see it was only Santana and Brittany.

“It’s just us,” Santana said. “Feel free to resume your sad lesbians cliché.”

Rachel blushed fiercely and she stuck her tongue out at Santana who made a face back. Everyone started filtering in after that and then glee was truly over.

\--

Rachel and Quinn left Lima the day after graduation in a rented U-Haul.

Santana cackled with hilarity. “Sad lesbian cliché number two!” she shouted at them as they drove away from saying goodbye to Santana and Brittany.

Rachel said goodbye to her Dad, phoned her Daddy in California to hear him wish her well and accompanied Quinn so that her friend could say an awkward goodbye to her mother.

And then their time in Lima was finally over.

There was no more counting down the days. It was finally here. It was more anti-climatic than Rachel would have thought, but with everything that happened the past few years, it was sort of a relief. She didn’t need the drama.

Rachel was just glad her time in Lima was over and she truly felt the next phase of her life was beginning. She was counting on this next phase being better than the one that came before.

They passed through the Lincoln Tunnel on the way to their new home, and it was beautiful.

“It’s going to be okay now,” Rachel whispered to Quinn.

The drive had taken over eleven hours and the air-conditioning had cut out in their U-Haul halfway through. They’d come dangerously close to murdering one another because it was one thing to be best friends who practically lived together, and it was a whole other thing to be driving buddies on a 600 mile, 11 hour car ride. Rachel genuinely felt there were moments in the drive when she loved Quinn a little less.

But when they arrived in their new city, in front of the apartment that was to be their new home, Rachel knew it was all going to be okay.

“I know,” Quinn said, reaching for Rachel’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “We’re going to be fine.”


	10. Chapter 10

 

The word she most commonly used to describe Rachel now was “roommate,” but that word was completely insufficient to communicate any of the meaning that Rachel had in her life. Rachel was her roommate, sure, because they shared the same two-bedroom apartment. But Rachel was also her best friend and their relationship held all the meaning that term held-- trusted confidante, partner-in-crime, her true north. With Rachel, she shared the strongest possible bond of friendship. Rachel was also an integral part of her daily routine-- they had breakfast together every day and dinner nearly every night. Breakfast was cooked by whoever had the later class that morning and dinner was cooked by whoever came home earlier. Their respective schedules were pinned by a gold star magnet to the refrigerator. In the evenings, they bickered over who had the wash the dishes, since there were also breakfast dishes that had to be washed. It was always settled easily and quickly because the person who cooked dinner never had to wash dishes, it was just the principle of the thing. They were used to a little friendly torment, and they saw no reason to stop just because they were in college. They studied together after dinner and into the night, and their schedules were fixed.

Rachel was part of her routine, but Rachel was also the center of her life. Quinn couldn’t deny that she scheduled classes based on maximizing the time she could spend with Rachel. She found a job that gave her mostly afternoon hours (at the library) so she could spend her evenings with Rachel. She’d swallowed her pride and let her mother help pay for school, even though it killed her to do it.

“I understand your qualms,” Rachel said quietly to her while they were still seniors in high school. “But education is too important and it’s extremely costly. Please just accept her help, because while I’m confident you can do it on your own, it would also make your life much more difficult than it needs to be.”

It killed her to admit it, but Quinn knew she needed her mother’s financial assistance.

It killed her to take it, but it also let her spend more time with Rachel, rather than having to work multiple jobs just to stay afloat. Rachel landed a dream paid internship at Sony and also had a part-time work study job manning the phones at the Student Health Centre, and so they managed to stay afloat when they pooled their money together and combined it with their financial aid refund checks.

‘Roommate’ was too paltry a term to describe a girl who had become the center of her universe, the most important part of her world. But it was the word she used to describe Rachel most now.

My roommate is in a play.

My roommate has a show.

My roommate is cooking dinner, but thanks.

My roommate bought it for me, I’m not sure where.

It got to the point that Ashley Morgan, one of her new friends in a History Survey class asked her point-blank. “Hey, when you say roommate, do you mean _girlfriend_? Because this is New York City, not whatever hillbilly town you came from, so it’s cool to call her your girlfriend.”

Quinn smiled wistfully. “She’s my roommate.”

\--

They didn’t go home for Thanksgiving. Neither of Rachel’s fathers asked. Quinn’s mother begged, but Quinn refused even though she was assured that of course, Rachel was invited, too.

They didn’t go home for Winter Break, either. This time, both of Rachel’s fathers asked, but she declined.

“I don’t really want to go home and I don’t want to go to LA to see Daddy,” Rachel admitted quietly. “My relationship with them has never been very strong and I can’t say that everything that happened has strengthened it. I’d rather stay here.”

Quinn’s mother asked again, but once again, Quinn refused. She was still too angry.

They spent Christmas Eve curled up under Rachel’s comforter. Even though they had two separate bedrooms, it felt strange not to share a room. In retrospect, they should have just rented a one-bedroom and spared themselves some of the cost, but that would have been difficult to explain to people who came over. Not that they owed anyone any kind of an explanation, but they weren’t dating and it seemed like a pretty difficult thing to explain away.

They watched _A Charlie Brown Christmas Special_ and Quinn mocked Rachel for becoming misty-eyed at the end.

Rachel chuckled and wiped at her eyes. She swatted at Quinn’s shoulder. “I‘m not religious, but there’s just something about that part about God and sinners reconciling. It’s my favorite Christmas carol and I’m _Jewish_.”

Quinn smiled ruefully, because that was the part that resonated most with her, too. Over the past few years, she thought a lot about reconciling herself with God, from fornication to unwed teenage motherhood to impure gay thoughts to _hating_ her mother and the memory of her father. She felt like she had a lot to reconcile.

“What have you done that’s so terrible that you need to reconcile yourself with God?” Quinn teased.

Rachel gave her a small smile. “I’m no better than anyone else,” she said quietly.

“You’re the best,” Quinn said sincerely.

“No,” Rachel said softly. She pulled away from Quinn and sighed. “You don’t see me the way I really am,” she said quietly. “It took me some time to realize this, but it’s true. You don’t see me.”

Quinn looked at her, bewildered. “What are you talking about? I _see_ you. Just you. Only you. I see you for exactly who you are. You’re my best friend. I know who you are.”

Rachel’s smile was sad. “You don’t see me. You don’t see me for me. You put me on this pedestal. You think I’m perfect.”

Quinn snorted. “Believe me. I don’t think you’re perfect.”

Rachel didn’t laugh. “You think I’m better than I actually am,” Rachel said glumly. “I guess it’s a good thing you can’t bring yourself to be with me,” she said quietly. “Considering you would undoubtedly be disappointed. “

“Rachel, why are you…where is all this coming from?”

Rachel’s eyes were teary. “You don’t see me,” she said quietly. “Not the way I am.” She stood up and walked away, leaving Quinn behind, stunned.

\--

Quinn stood up and followed Rachel into the living room where she was flipping through a textbook. Quinn sat down next to her.

“I don’t know what you think,” Quinn said quietly. “But I do see you. I know you aren’t perfect, but to me, you’re as perfect as it’s going to get.”

Rachel scoffed softly. “That’s exactly what I mean,” she said somberly. “I’m not perfect. I’m nowhere near it.”

“I never said _you_ were perfect, doofus. That’s one of your faults right there. You don’t listen. I said _I_ think you’re perfect. There’s a difference, you know.”

There really wasn’t, not when one stopped to think about it. It was wonderful to be thought of as perfect, but it was also too much pressure. She never believed _Quinn_ could ever look at her and only see her silver-lined aspects, but as time wore on, that seemed to be the case.

There were little examples of it here and there-- Rachel knew she did a haphazard job of cleaning the bathroom when it was her turn the last time, but Quinn never said anything about it, despite the fact that if the situations were reversed, Rachel would have called foul. Rachel used too much of the hot water (selfishly), but Quinn never called her on it, despite the fact, again, if the situations had been reversed, Rachel would have called foul. Rachel got a little too jealous of the time Quinn was spending with one of her classmates and instead of Quinn telling Rachel where to shove it, Quinn stopped hanging out with that person.

Rachel knew she was being crazy, and she was counting on her best friend to call her out on it, but her best friend couldn’t seem to _see_ her, _really_ see her anymore.

“I told Finn the truth about Beth just to hurt you,” Rachel said. “I wanted Finn, and I wanted to take him away from you, and I knew he would be furious with you, so that’s why I told him.”

Quinn stared at her, bewildered, “Why are you bringing that up?”

“I sent that girl…what was her name? God, I can’t even remember her name anymore, but that Filipino girl. I sent her to a crackhouse because I was threatened.”

“Why are you bringing this up?”

“Last week, I told a classmate who was trying out for the same play that I didn’t know where try-outs were, but I did and she missed them because I didn’t want her to try out.”

“Rachel,” Quinn said patiently. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because!” Rachel exploded. “That’s who I am! It’s part of who I am, but you won’t see it! You don’t see me as I am. You see a _victim_. You coddle me!”

Quinn stared at Rachel, confused and wounded by the accusation. She knew Rachel’s faults-- knew them well, actually. But she didn’t care. She didn’t care if Rachel was maybe a little too cutthroat for her own good, or that Rachel was just a little too short to ever make them fit the right way when they were standing next to one another with their natural six inch height difference between them. She didn’t care that Rachel was anal-retentive and obsessive-compulsive. She didn’t care that Rachel’s insistence they adhere to an overly rigid routine was actually pretty annoying most of the time. She didn’t care some of Rachel’s political and world views were flat-out ridiculous. She didn’t _care_.

Rachel was, simply, her best friend and the love of her life. She wasn’t blind to Rachel’s faults, but she chose not to see them most of the time. The girl was infuriating, no one could ever deny that. But Quinn saw her for exactly who she was, and fuck _anyone_ , Rachel Berry included, who thought otherwise.

“I do see you,” Quinn said quietly. “And if you want, I can make a list of all your faults.”

“Please don‘t enumerate my foibles.”

“Foibles make it sound like something cute. I’m talking major failings.”

Rachel chuckled in spite of herself.

“I know you’re not perfect,” Quinn said quietly. “But I love you and if I only want to see the good stuff, why is that so bad? I know the bad stuff is there, Rach, but that’s just a tiny bit of it.”

Rachel looked at her sadly. “Because it’s not a tiny bit of it, and you’re just going to get disappointed. And it will kill me.”

Quinn held her hand. “I see you,” she said quietly. “And the bad stuff is just a tiny bit of it, and none of it is as bad as you think.”

Rachel swallowed hard. She pulled her hand away. “I think,” she said quietly. “I think we need to start dating. Not each other. Other people.”

Quinn swallowed hard and stared at her. “Have you met someone?”

“One of my classmates has been very persistent in asking me out. I’ve declined up until now, but I think it would be healthy for us to start dating. This hasn’t been very healthy for either of us, Quinn. We’re not in a relationship, but we act as though we’re beholden to one another, but we’re not.”

Quinn wanted to point out that they _were_ kind of beholden to one another, even if they weren’t dating. But she couldn’t find the right words. So instead, she simply said, “okay.”

\--

Their closeness slipped. Not all the way, not even a lot, but enough to make a difference, enough that they both felt it.

Routines changed. Rachel started having breakfasts with that _boy_ Alex and Quinn started having study dates with a boy called Chris, whom she worked with at the library. They started having to sleep in separate rooms, out of pure necessity because boys started staying the night.

It wasn’t what Quinn wanted, but at the same time, it was kind of a relief. That need for more, but the inability to push for it, that feeling of closeness (too close), it had started to become too much. They were more than best friends ( _much_ more), but less than lovers ( _much_ less) and it was beginning to destroy her.

Her relationship with Rachel started to become more like all the other best friend relationships, and for a time, it made things easier. They giggled over boys, like the time Rachel came home, still laughing hysterically. She climbed into bed with Quinn, who happened to be alone that night, and cackled as she recounted the story of making out with Alex only to hear Alex’s dog making a lot of noise. When they turned on the light, they discovered Bandit _eating_ Rachel’s bra. They’d laughed for a good twenty minutes over that one, sprawled over one another, just like old times.

But even as things got increasingly serious with Chris, it killed Quinn to see Rachel with someone else.

One night, close to the end of their first year of college, Rachel sat down next to Quinn on the couch.

“Alex thinks I should move in with him. I think it might be a good idea. I won’t leave you in a bind, so obviously, I’ll stay until we find you a new roommate. But I think it’ll be good for us and--”

“No,” Quinn said flatly. “No.”

Rachel paused and stared at her for a moment. Quinn stared back.

“Okay,” Rachel said quietly.

Rachel stayed and she and Alex quietly broke up soon after. Rachel didn’t seem that upset, though she did spend a few days moping on the couch in her pajamas and eating too much frozen yogurt with cereal as the topping. Soon after that, Quinn broke up with Chris and she and Rachel were back to sharing a bed.

“I want to give this a chance,” Quinn whispered one night when they were lying entangled with one another. “I’m ready. I want a chance.”

It was a sweltering hot August night-- their first summer in New York. But they kept the air conditioning on high, to the point that it was chilly in their apartment and they pressed against one another for warmth.

“Okay,” Rachel whispered.

And then Quinn kissed her.

\--

It was not an easy road. Nothing in their history had ever been easy.

They talked. They talked relentlessly. They talked too much. They talked and talked until they were tired and weary. Every action, every decision was preceded by _far_ too much discussion, much more than they would with anyone else. But it was the only way they could think of that would ensure their survival.

After all, everyone claimed the key to sustaining a relationship was communication, and they did that to excess.

Even still, they couldn’t prepare for _everything_.

The first time they undressed each other and felt that wet slide of flesh against flesh, Quinn nibbled on Rachel’s shoulder and whispered, “I’m going to fuck you all night,” which made Rachel freeze and flee into the bathroom, locking the door behind her and crying for forty-five minutes before she finally unlocked the door, still sniffling.

Rachel spent another forty-five minutes rubbing Quinn’s back as Quinn vomited into a toilet after Rachel explained just why her reaction had been so strong.  
\--  
Nothing in their history had ever been easy, but that was okay because they’d learned to tread carefully.

Winston Churchill apparently once said that if you’re going through hell, to keep going and Quinn planned to keep going.  
\--

It wasn’t easy. Maybe it would never be easy. But Quinn didn’t care. She’d waited too long, worked too hard, went through too much to get to this point. She wasn’t going to give up just because things were a little hard.

“I’m so stupid for you,” Rachel whispered in her ear one morning, when things between them were still new.

Quinn laughed softly. She loved this girl so much, she made herself a little sick. “I lose my head when I’m around you,” she admitted quietly. “I love you so much, baby.”

Rachel nuzzled Quinn’s neck. “We’re so stupid and perfect,” she murmured. “Admittedly stupidity is not something that works in favor of any kind of survival, and yet, it works for us, so we must be special.”

Quinn snorted with laughter. “You’re ridiculous,” she declared fondly.

Rachel gave her a lopsided smile. “As long as you see me for me,” she said quietly.

“I see you,” Quinn assured fervently. “Please believe me,” she pleaded. “I waited so long for this. I waited so long for you. Nothing’s going to screw it up.”

Rachel swallowed hard. “I know,” she said softly. “I know you do. And I see you, too,” she said softly. She propped herself up on her elbow, smiled down at the blonde, and played a chord on Quinn’s shoulder. “I told you once that everything was going to be okay and that we were going to be fine.” She grinned. “Didn’t you believe me?”

“I kind of lost my way,” Quinn admitted. “It’s a good thing you found me, huh?”

Rachel smiled. “Good for both of us.”

Things between them had never been easy.

But that was okay.

Rachel brushed her thumb across Quinn’s lip. “I’ll always find you,” she said quietly. “Not in a creepy way like that girl in _Wedding Crashers_ …” she trailed off as Quinn began to laugh. She smiled fondly. “But if you’re lost, I’ll always find you.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “I know,” she said quietly.

“It’s going to be okay, Quinn.”

“I know.”

The road ahead of them was likely to be difficult, because nothing had ever come easy for them when it came to each other. In getting together, both their families had been destroyed and they were estranged from the families they once loved and adored. They were alone, but at least they were together. Nothing had been easy for them, and so it was likely nothing ever would, at least when it came to them as a couple. But that was okay. There were a multitude of things they still needed to sort out, but that was okay, because they could sort them out together.

It was going to be okay.

They were pulled together, whether it was purely by choice or by gravity, they were pulled together and nothing they’d done to repel one another had succeeded.

They were pulled together, drawn toward each other like magnetism or electron affinity.

Quinn could never resist the pull. Not when she was a high school freshman with an unaccountable hatred toward a diminutive, loudmouth brunette whom she had the urge to Slushie. And not when she was a college freshman with a desperate need to hold onto that diminutive loudmouth, because that diminutive loudmouth had become the center of her world.

Quinn could never resist the pull, not even when she wanted to, not even when her mind screamed at her that it was wrong to want Rachel as much as she did, after everything her father and her sister did to her. Quinn could never resist that pull, and she was done resisting.

She was pulled into Rachel’s gravity and she was too helpless to resist or pull herself out. She didn’t even want to pull herself out.

Quinn Fabray could never resist the pull of Rachel Berry, but that was okay.

Because they were going to be okay.

“It’s going to be fine,” Rachel assured. “It’s going to be…perfect.”

“I know,” Quinn said softly.

“We’re going to be fine. We’re going to be perfect.”

“I know.”

It was going to be fine.

The End  



	11. The Sun Will Always Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sequel of sorts to Gravitational Forces which takes place in the future. Warning for character death (sorry) and the detestable 2nd person POV, but this proves that Rachel and Quinn really were happy after Gravitational Forces (P.S. I’m sorry for being such an angst fest lately)

**Title:** The Sun Will Always Rise  
**Author:** Sulkygeek  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Length:** 8932  
**Spoilers:** through Duets, to be safe

* * *

 

Your mother was thirty-nine when she died suddenly in a small plane crash. Your first morbid thought was that your mother went out like Buddy Holly in a day-the-music-died sort of way and how that was so typical of her, especially because your mother actually did die on the day Buddy Holly, Frankie Valens and the Big Bopper died and _totally_ stole their anniversary death thunder.

Your mother never minded terror, not even the unholy pee-your-pants kind if it added to her credibility or if she thought it was going to give her something to draw on when she needed to give a performance. She was an unholy combination of Peter Pan (everything was an awfully big adventure) and Tinkerbell (tiny and occasionally bitchy) which was often entertaining and sometimes frustrating. If she’d survived the crash, she would have been making jokes before she was even out of the hospital-- your mother was a little crazy, so she was prone to making the occasional inappropriate self-deprecating remark.

Once, she broke her leg on the set of a movie. You were eight and terrified and you cried on the way to the hospital. When Mom asked her if she was all right, your mother responded, “I’m disfigured and crippled” and laughed for about five minutes straight like she was being clever while Mom went from looking like she just got hit in the stomach to looking like she wanted to hit your mother in the stomach in about two seconds. Your mother had a great sense of humor, but she also made people laugh unintentionally because of the things she used to say. She also made too many jokes at her own expense which you and Mom never liked.

She was also terrible at taking care of herself. She broke a rib once on set and took two weeks to get to a doctor. When Mom got mad at her, she was completely dismissive and said, “first of all, medically, there’s very little one can do for a broken rib, and secondly, I’m just very busy, Quinn.” She was terrible at taking care of herself, all herbal supplements and positive thinking. But try coughing and sounding a _little_ too congested within her earshot and she’d chase you down with a humidifier and some Vick’s vapor rub. It used to annoy you, even after Mom laughed and told you, “humor her, honey, excessive attention is how your mother shows her love.”

You would do anything now for just a little bit of that excessive attention, exactly the way your mother used to joke you would. “You’re going to miss this when I’m dead,” she would tell you with a big grin and a huge laugh as she dragged the humidifier into your room after you coughed at dinner. You’d be on the phone or doing homework or procrastinating on the internet, and you’d scowl at her, and she’d just laugh even harder, plug the humidifier in, kiss the top of your head and tell you, “you’re going to miss this when I’m dead,” and then she’d break off into peals of laughter, like she thought she was going to live forever. Her laughter was contagious and even though you were utterly annoyed, you couldn’t help but laugh.

The news of your mother’s death dominated the news for a week-- she would have _loved_ it. No one lives forever, not even your mother who always seemed like she’d have as good a shot at immortality as anyone would ever get.

The lights on Broadway dimmed in your mother’s memory. Mom cried when they announced they were going to do that. You’re pretty sure your mother would have loved that, too, except, you know, that she had to die to have it happen.

\--

Your mother was alternately your best friend and your sworn enemy. Mom was always just Mom, but you and your mother’s battles were epic. After she died, you were sorry, so fucking sorry for always being the kid to give her such a hard time. But then Mom told you how much your mother loved having a worthy adversary and well, it was kind of true. Your mother always won, and she must have loved that, too, because she _loved_ to win. But even when you were screaming at her for being overbearing and overprotective, you always knew she loved you.

That was just kind of who she was-- she could always separate person from action. You once called your mother a bitch. You were ten, and you weren’t allowed to go to a sleepover for your best friend’s birthday because both your parents had a thing about sleepovers at other people’s houses. Your friends’ mothers would have hit them for the ‘bitch’ remark, but your mother was calm and told you she loved you and it was okay to be angry with her-- she understood, but the answer was still no. You were put on punishment for two weeks for calling your mother a name, but once your punishment was over, your mother threw you and your sister the best sleepover, _ever_. Seriously, at your mother’s funeral, you had friends who _still_ talked about that sleepover when you were ten like it was the best night of their lives.

You never knew your father. For a couple of years, you used to think that you and Sammie’s father was a sperm donor or something, but your mother was only twenty-one and barely out of college when she got pregnant, and that just seems pretty improbable. You always just kind of assumed you and Sammie were accidents, like maybe off a one-night stand. But that turned out not to be exactly the case.

Mom drunkenly admitted to you one night when you were fourteen that your mother cheated on her shortly after they graduated college and had a month-long affair which resulted in your mother becoming pregnant with you and Sammie. Your mom was religious and demanded your mother keep the baby, even though the baby turned out to be _babies_ and they were young, pretty broke and only just building their careers. And your mother…well, your mother always gave Mom everything she asked for. And so here you were.

You were curious about your father, and you never knew much, just that he was much older and pretty much abandoned your twenty-one year old mother when she got pregnant with twins, so fuck him. You don’t need him.

“She was very young,” your mom explained, trying to defend your mother when she realized she should have never started this conversation. That was typical Mom-- always defending your mother no matter what. And you kind of understood, but you were fourteen, your mom was drunk and you’d just found out you and your twin were only born because your mother cheated on your mom. It was kind of a tough night and so you were appalled by your mother’s actions in getting pregnant with you, though you know how completely contradictory that was.

You just don’t get how your mother could have _ever_ cheated on Mom. You don’t know much about your parents’ histories before they became your parents, but Mom has always seemed so stupidly, almost painfully, in love with your mother. You know your mother loved Mom, but there were days when your mother’s feelings toward Mom seemed ambivalent at best. Granted there were plenty of days when your mother seemed deliriously in love with Mom, and it made sense why they were together, but even before you found out that your conception was the result of your mother being unfaithful to Mom, you’d always sensed that your mom was more in love with your mother than the other way around. There would be a few days here and there where Mom saying something completely innocuous like calling your brothers the “little ones” could make your mother give Mom a _look_ that made Mom look like she wanted to cry. It was never a mean look or anything, it was more just this stare with her head tilted to the right, like she found Mom curious or something, but that look could reduce Mom to tears. You’ve seen your mother look at Mom that way a few times over the years, and it always ended with Mom in tears, excusing herself into their bedroom and your mother chasing after her, apologies falling from her lips.

Your mother was _furious_ when she found out Mom told you about your conception, especially when Mom confessed that she’d had a few drinks in her at the time. Mom was sorry and said she knew it was inappropriate, but there was a huge screaming argument anyway in which your mother shouted “you’re just like your mother!” (because Grandma Fabray was a functional alcoholic). There was this momentary silence and your mother was already apologizing “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” but then there was the sound of skin slapping skin and the sound of a body being slammed _hard_ into a wall and it all sounded so _violent_. Mom screamed, “don’t you ever fucking say that to me again, or God help _you_ , I won’t be responsible for my actions, you little fucking bitch!”

It was the first and _only_ time Mom ever raised a hand to your mother. As far as you know, your mother never raised a hand to Mom.

The argument was a shock. They’d argued before, of course, but mostly in the snippy way that you and your siblings became accustomed and immune to. They sniped at one another, laughed it off and it was all okay. They’ve had some serious fights, too, but it never seemed out of the ordinary. But that argument was something else entirely.

 

The thing was, Mom cursed, but never _at_ anyone. It was more the occasional slip-- she’d drop something or make a mistake while driving and say “shit,” but that was about the extent of it. So when Mom called your mother “you little fucking bitch” it was a shock, especially because Mom always seemed so in love with her and treated your mother like she was Faberge-egg precious and made-of-glass fragile, even though your mother was always the strongest, toughest person you knew.

As for your mother, well, she rarely cursed and when she did, she always did this thing where she seemed really embarrassed for herself. She never cursed at you, your siblings or Mom, or anyone else for that matter, at least not in front of you. She also never called you, your siblings or Mom a mean name-- not once. You know, of course, that parents aren’t supposed to call their kids names, but you’ve held the hand of many of your crying friends after they were called a brat, a bitch or worse by their parents and this was never an issue for you because your parents weren’t the kind of people to call their kids names.

You never heard either of your parents ever say something like that to one another. Your whole life up until then, it was always ‘baby this’ and ‘baby that.’ Your mothers worshiped at the altars of one another and so Mom calling your mother a “little fucking bitch” was like blasphemy in your house.

You and your siblings jumped when you heard the sound of skin smacking skin, and your mother being slammed against a wall by Mom, but there was a collective gasp in the room you shared with Sammie when you all heard Mom call your mother a ‘little fucking bitch.’

After Mom hit your mother, you got up to intervene, but Sammie held you back. The boys were in the room with you-- they snuck in once the argument escalated and so the four of you huddled in one bed and listened to your parents fight. You had your ear pressed to the door and heard as your mother became instantly compliant, apologizing for everything and saying she would never say it again. She was murmuring soft apologies you could barely make out, but you heard her tone-- so meek and appeasing that you wanted to scream.

You hated her for apologizing when Mom was the one who hit her. You hated her for not being as strong for herself as she was for everyone else. It was always like that with them--in the rare times they fought, if Mom got a little too loud or seemed a little too angry, your mother instantly tried to appease Mom-- even when Mom was wrong. Most of the time, your mother wore the pants in the family, so to speak, but your mother always seemed easily intimidated and cowed by your mom in a real fight, which you always thought your mom hated because she always seemed upset for a few days any time they _really_ fought. You would see her glancing over at your mother and your mother would always smile reassuringly.

It was so weird how your mother was so strong for everyone else, but never defended herself.

When one of your neighbors started harassing Mom a little too much in the morning, your mother was the one who went over to his house with just her five-foot-two self and her mouth set in a grim hard line. He never bugged Mom again. When you and Sammie were twelve and got bullied for being pathetically short and woefully underdeveloped, your mother stomped down to the school and told the principal he better do something about it before she did because she fought kids.

Where was this fire when it came to herself?

Mom hit her, and _she_ was the one who apologized? It made you want to hit her yourself.

For Mom’s part, she started crying and apologizing.

“Oh God. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll never do it again. I swear.”

You thought your mother should have been angry, despite the fact Mom sounded painfully sincere, but your mother _never_ got angry. Instead, you heard her tell Mom, “it’s okay, I know you love me. I’m sorry I was so awful. You’re nothing like your mother. I’m sorry I was so horrible. It was all my fault, I was wrong.” and it made you furious.

But it never happened again and honestly, after that, you never heard them so much as fight again.

\--

Your parents were mysteries, and not just in the way that all parents were mysteries to their children-- they were _genuine_ mysteries.

You used to hate your mother for being one way at home and one way in front of the world. You thought it was fake. She was the cheerful Broadway actress in public, always smiling and stammering when she got excited, which was a lot, and charming the press and audiences.

But when she was at home, she withdrew a lot. You wanted her attention-- she was your mother, and though she was the kind of mother to get down on the floor and crawl around with you in a Dolce and Gabbana dress minutes before she and Mom were supposed to leave for the Tonys, she was also the kind of mother who would come home and go straight to bed and not talk to anyone for rest of the night. You used to hate her for this disparity. You used to hate her because there were too many days and nights when she was completely unreachable. She was there, and she was with you, but she just seemed so goddamn sad and far away and you were afraid that one day she’d stay gone. There were just days when not even Mom seemed to reach her, and you were always terrified that your mother would slip away from you for good. Until, that is, one day, she really was gone for good and you would have taken that distant, remote version of your mother over nothing at all.

And of course, you felt terrible for latching onto the rare days when your mother was something other than sweet and hilarious. But it was precisely because they were so rare that they were remarkable and so indelible in your memory. Your mother seemed so happy most of the time that her sadness could be crushing for all of you-- on your mother’s rare bad days, Mom would run out to buy flowers or some stuffed animal or _something_ to appease your mother and you and your siblings would make drawings, make coupon books good for favors, hugs and chores and perform plays in an effort to cheer your mother up. Your mother was a brilliant actress, and she’d smile and beam and do all the right things ,but she was your mother and so you knew when she was happy and when she was just pretending. You felt like such a failure for being unable to cheer up your relentlessly cheerful mother when all she had to do was make a goofy face or take you for a mani/pedi to cheer you up. But that was the thing with your mother-- she always knew how to cheer everyone else up.

As good as your mother was to you (and she was, in fact, very good despite all the times you fought with her), she had her faults, too. But the biggest one was the fact she was wildly overprotective. _Wildly_. You don’t even know how you and your sister and your brothers ended up in daycare because your mother had an inherent lack of trust for _everyone_.

You’re pretty sure that was Mom’s doing, that Mom forced your mother to put you and your siblings in daycare so your mother could run after her Broadway dreams. But your mother was suspicious of everyone. You could probably have gotten away with murder, like, actual fucking homicide in your house, but try giving a stranger directions on the street (which happened a lot in New York City) and you could get a lecture that lasted hours. The only rules in the house were no talking to strangers, ever and no sleepovers at anyone’s house, not even people you’ve known for years.

Mom was also overprotective, and you used to hate her, too, for always going along with your mother every single time, even though your mother was _crazy_ sometimes.

\--

The one and only time you’ve ever been hit by a parent in your entire life was when you were eleven years old and you told Mom, “you aren’t my mother or my mom!” during some ridiculous fight when you were having problems with some assholes at school over your gay moms. Your mother slapped you in the face and reminded you that Mom has raised you since the second you were born and she didn’t ever want to hear something like that come out of your mouth again. You were spiteful and _thought_ it, but you never said it out loud ever again, and then one day, you were sorry for ever thinking it at all, because it was true-- Mom has always been there.

Your mother apologized to you afterward when she calmed down enough to speak.

“I’m very sorry I hit you,” she said softly. “It won’t ever happen again. Your mom and I don’t ever want to be the kind of parents who hit. You deserved better than that, and I’m sorry.”

You knew the apology was sincere, because your mother was always sincere and of course, you felt like a jerk.

\--

You’re not sure why the sleepover thing was such a big deal for you, but it was. Your parents were the kind of people who wanted to meet the parents of all your friends, which you could _always_ concede was fair, but your parents could be so annoyingly over-the-top about it.

You’re a twin, so you were never lonely. You have two brothers, also twins, five years younger than you are, and you’ve never cared how much of a nerd this made you, but you’ve always adored the shit out of your brothers. You _liked_ being at home with your blindingly blonde little brothers, your homebody twin sister and your dorky parents.

So it’s not that you’ve ever needed to be around other kids or needed to be out of your house, because you _liked_ being at home, but Jesus, you would have liked to have slept over at someone else’s house, instead of always having the sleepovers at your house even if your sleepovers were the envy of all your friends and everyone wanted an invite. You just never understood why it was such a big issue, even if it’s one that’s moot now.

\--

You don’t have any grandparents. You know they’re alive because you’ve researched it, but you never grew with them. You’ve met your mother’s fathers a few times. You’ve met Mom’s mother, too. Mom’s father is dead and she almost seems glad of it. You figured out on your own that both your parents came from fucked up backgrounds, because really, what else could explain the fact they both had living parents whom they never communicated with and didn’t allow their kids to see? You don’t resent your parents for not having grandparents though-- they were always so mellow and taught you about the importance of being a good, kind person and about forgiving others, that you have always known if your grandparents were the kind of people you should be around, you’d be around them. Still, it took you a long time to appreciate the fact that you parents were better parents to you than their parents were to them. It didn’t matter how furious your parents have made you in the past, there was never anything either of them could do to make you want to permanently cut ties with them. And now your mother has been gone for a few years, and you would do anything to get her back even though there were too many moments when you just didn’t understand her.

Your mother’s fathers showed up to the funeral. You’d only met them a few times and they kept staring at you and Sammie like you were ghosts. Mom was hostile to them, but didn’t tell them to leave. Mom’s mother came to the funeral, as did your aunt Taylor, who you knew existed, but you knew nothing about. Mom was pretty hostile to your grandmother, Judy, but again, didn’t tell her to leave. She was pretty hostile to your mother’s biological mother, Shelby, but again, Mom didn’t ask her to leave. But when she saw your aunt Taylor who, Jesus Christ, it was like your mom and your aunt were _twins_ separated by a few years and some highlights, your mom completely lost it.

“Don’t you dare show your face here!”

Your aunt was meek. “I loved her, too,” she said in a whisper.

But your aunt left without being told twice and you knew that your aunt must have done something pretty terrible to get a reaction like that out of your reliably mellow mom. You were rattled by the way Mom started to cry when your aunt left-- she cried harder than those first terrible hours when you all knew that your mother was dead. You couldn’t take the sight of your mom sinking to the ground and crying, so you snuck off to smoke a cigarette which you knew your parents would kill you for, but you did it anyway, because your mother was dead and your mom was a mess.

You ran into your aunt in the parking lot and you offered her a cigarette which she took.

“Hi. I’m Liz. You’re my aunt.”

“I know who you are,” she whispered. “You look just like your mother.”

You and Sammie have heard this your entire lives.

“I know.”

She kept staring at you, like she couldn’t believe the resemblance. She reached up and palmed your cheek. “ _Just_ like her.”

“I know.”

Your parents used to joke about how strong their genetics were, because you and Sammie looked exactly like your mother, and your brothers looked just like Mom, except male.

Your aunt Taylor smiled at you and then pulled her hand away from your face. “Your mother was the kindest person I ever knew. She could forgive anything. I just want you to know that.”

Your aunt Brittany happened to see you talking to Taylor and she stomped over and snatched the cigarette out of your mouth. “Come on, Ellie,” Brittany said. “We’re going back.” She glared at Taylor. “You know why you need to leave, so _leave_.” Then your aunt Brittany took you by the hand and dragged you back. When you were far enough away from your aunt but still far enough from your mother, too, your aunt Brittany finally spoke.

“You are _never_ ever to speak to her, do you understand?”

Your aunt Brittany’s voice was hard and serious. It was harder and more serious than you’d ever heard it. Of everyone in your life, you’re closest to your aunt Brittany-- you two have always gotten along and she always seemed to get you. She was also the only person in your life who could call you Ellie and get away with it, because Ellie sounded like a name more suited for a stuffed purple elephant. Everyone else in your life always called you Liz or some derivation of it, including your own twin sister and your parents. But your aunt Brittany has always been special to you. You never liked disappointing her or defying her, but you just wanted to remind her that Taylor was your _actual_ aunt-- practically related by blood and you just wanted to talk to her for the first time in your life. You wanted to hear more about both your parents from her.

“But she’s my aunt.”

“Never,” Brittany said. “Never ever. I’m not fucking around here. You are never ever to speak to her. Do you understand me?” She looked upset. “I’m not asking you again, Ellie. Do you understand me?”

The only person who ever really cursed regularly around you was your aunt Santana, and she cursed at everyone. So when Brittany told you she wasn’t fucking around, you took that seriously and you nodded.

“Yes. Okay. I get it.”

\--

The problem with you and your mother was that you were always too much alike. You and Sammie were the spitting images of your mother, right down to being too short. Your mother was stubborn and strong-willed and so were you. Sammie was always more laidback. She may have looked just like your mother, but Sammie was so mellow. She was always the ‘go with the flow’ type while your mother always knew exactly what she wanted, even when it was ridiculously specific. Your mother used to call Sammie “my hippie kid” and Sammie always grinned and agreed. Your brother Robert was ‘the quiet one’ and Jonathan was “my costar” because he wanted to be an actor, just like your mother.

But your mother called you “my mini-me.”

You and your mother always butted heads. You both wanted your own way and your mother was not the kind of person to back down. Neither were you.

So you chafed under her rules, even when they seemed pretty reasonable and you fought with her about everything.

But when your mother laughed, it was hard to stay mad at her and you were crawling into bed next to her well into your teen years, telling her all your secrets.

\--

Your parents’ relationship was never perfect. Mom always seemed too eager to please while your mother always backed down when she should have had the upper hand. Mom tended to treat your mother like she was made of glass, and your mother spent a lot of time trying to assure Mom she was fine, even when she clearly wasn’t.

But your parents’ relationship also seemed really _fun_. There was often laughter coming from their bedroom which only started to gross you out once you were old enough to figure out they weren’t telling each other jokes or watching something funny on TV. Music was a big part of your family. Your mother turned everything into a song-and-dance number (mortifyingly enough, you were singing the ‘clean up’ song in your head well into adulthood) and your mom not only indulged this, but gamely joined in. They slow-danced nearly every night in the kitchen to Motown when they thought you and your siblings were in bed. They had a hard time spending any night apart, even though it was a fairly common occurrence because your mother’s filming schedule often took her away from home. Every Valentine’s Day, your parents gave each other homemade Valentine’s Day cards which they turned into a friendly competition (undoubtedly your mother’s doing) as they tried to one-up each other in terms of ostentatious decoration.

But their cards always read the same thing.

“To my wife, you are my eternal valentine.”

And so you wanted what your parents had. But what you learned most from your parents is to know when you had it, and when you didn’t.

It made you sad, of course, that your mother never got to meet your husband or your son. You were twenty two and still in college when you got pregnant with Jack and you were scared shitless to tell your Mom, but when you finally did, she sighed and said, “the women in our family just have babies young,” and then she laughed and told you it was going to be okay and then it was.

It wasn’t what you wanted for yourself, or what she wanted for you, but you knew you’d have her support, no matter what. And you knew if your mother had been alive, you would have had hers, too.

\--

The way your mother died is one of your worst fears. Not just the airplane aspect of it, but the part about knowing it was coming and not being able to do anything about it.

She made one final call home and she was calm when she spoke.

“I have to be quick. There’s something wrong with the plane. I have some things to say, so please let me say it. And if I do get to come home, I want you to know that everything I’m saying is true and I mean every word.”

And so she said a quick good bye, naming each of you by name-- Liz, Sammie, Robbie, Jonny and telling each of you how much she loved you all and how you were all the best things to come from her.

“Just remember,” she said. “Nothing bad ever lasts forever, and the sun will always rise eventually.”

And then she addressed Mom.

“When it came to our life together, my only regrets were when I hurt you. I loved every second of our life together, even when it was hard, even when it hurt. And I want you to know that I _thought_ I knew what love was before you, but I really had no idea. I had no idea until you. And I want you to know when I looked at you, you were all I saw. You made it all go away. When I looked at you, it was always just you I saw. I want you to know that unless there was ever any doubt because I don’t think I did a very good job of making you know that.”

It didn’t make much sense to you, but you know your mother is trying to tell Mom something, something that only Mom would understand and you know from the way Mom started to cry that she understood what your mother was trying to tell her.

“You did a very good job,” Mom said, her voice cracking. “I knew, baby. I always knew. It wasn’t always easy, but I knew. And I want you to know, you were all I saw, too, baby. I love you. Please come home soon.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be with than you and the kids. Don’t you know this by now?”

Mom laughed softly. “Sometimes I needed reminding.”

Your mother laughed. “Our family is the thing I’m most proud of in life, don’t you know that? I’ll never get tired of reminding you.”

“And I’ll never look away.” Your mom paused. “Are you scared, baby?” she asked, her voice cracking.

You knew she’d forgotten you were all there if she asked that.

“I’m not scared, baby,” your mother soothed. “Nothing bad ever lasts forever. Always remember that, Quinn. Nothing bad lasts forever and make sure our kids remember that, too.”

“I will, Rachel. We’ll teach them together and--”

Your mom was cut off because there was murmuring and shouting on your mother’s end of the phone. Your mom visibly became pale. And then your mother was back on the line, sounding a little rushed. Controlled, but rushed.

“Okay, okay” your mother said breathlessly. “I have to go. I’m sorry. I love you guys so much. But I--” her voice cracked. “I’m sorry. I love you guys. You guys were everything to me.”

And then she hung up.

Your mother died a few minutes later when her plane crashed. She died on impact, and you were thankful she didn’t suffer.

\--

A few years passed after your mother died when you finally had the nerve to ask Mom, “why was she so paranoid about everything?”

It was your biggest point of contention which seemed pretty ridiculous once she was gone and you were older. Your mother was wildly overprotective, but she was also deliriously fun to be around. Of all the complaints you’ve heard your friends make about their parents, being angry at your mother for being overprotective seemed like small potatoes. Some of your friends have returned home only to find the locks have been changed and they weren’t going to get a new key or they got yelled at a lot, or hit a lot or a myriad of other things. So really, your mother’s zealous over-protectiveness seemed like a pitifully paltry thing to have argued with her over. But it was a huge point of contention between the two of you and you’d like to know what was such a big deal that you could never come to a compromise.

Your mom looked at you. She poured you a glass of wine and you sat down next to her on the couch.

“When your mother was little,” Mom said softly, “someone hurt her very badly.”

You swallowed hard because it made sense. You always knew your mother was hurt in some way, you just never knew how. You got the sense that both your parents have been hurt in some way, but it was your mother who had a nightmare during a family vacation that she woke up crying from before she stumbled to the bathroom and vomited for nearly an hour. And it was your mother who could look so so sad.

“How?”

Mom shook her head. “Your mother tried most of her life to bury that,” she said. “And the details were never something she wanted you kids to know.” She swallowed hard. “Someone hurt your mother and she was too little and too young to tell anyone and she didn’t have anyone looking out for her.” Mom’s voice broke a little. “It stayed with her. I know she was overprotective-- she knew it, too. But what happened to your mother was evil.” Mom’s face hardened and she clenched her fist. “We were scared, Lizzie. We were overprotective and we made mistakes because of it, but it was always out of love.”

\--

Of course you knew this to be true. Your parents both had their faults. Sometimes they were so alike that you wondered how they could possibly work being so similar. But somehow, they always did. And other times they were so very different you wondered how they could possibly bridge the gaps of misunderstanding between them. But somehow, they always did.

Your mother won two Tonys and a Grammy before she was thirty, and by the time she’d died she’d won an Emmy (she won the Oscar posthumously that year) and thus achieved the majority of what she’d set out to accomplish in her career.

Mom has the best conviction record of any District Attorney in the state-- she has a reputation for being ethical, fair, but tough. She has been the Mayor’s darling since she was barely out of law school.

And even with all of your parents’ combined accomplishments and accolades, the thing they always said they were most proud of was the family they made.

You were never a good student-- your sister and your brothers were all brilliant, but you were the dyslexic with the lazy eye in a family of overachievers. You were glum one day over a failed test you’d studied really hard for-- a regular event in your life. You felt bad because you wanted to do better, but your parents were never the kind of people to get upset over a bad grade, not even a really bad one.

“It’s okay, Lizzie,” Mom told you. “There will also be another test. Life is full of them, and this one really isn’t the kind that matters.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” you shot back.

“It _is_ easy for your mom to say,” your mother murmured with a laugh. She nudged Mom’s foot with her own. “Smarty pants,” she addressed Mom wryly. Then she smiled at you. “Your mom and I were both good students, that much is true,” she said. “But now I don’t remember what I got in Spanish or Biology--”

“You big liar,” Mom interjected. “You know you got an A in both.”

“God, you ruin things,” your mother said with an exasperated sigh. “Yes, admittedly your mother and I both excelled in school, Lizzie. But academic performance or really, any other kind of performance, on screen or in the court room, are not things me and your Mom are proud of. The thing we’re most proud of, baby, is our family. I would never trade my life with you kids or your Mom for anything. I say this with absolute certainty-- my family is the best thing to come from me, and I know whatever you choose to do in life, you will take pride in that, and your Mom and I will be proud. High school is tough, baby. But real life happens after high school and I know it’s going to be great for you. This was just _one_ math test, baby. It’s not a big deal. You’re going to find your niche, and it will be amazing and you’ll see how much better life is after high school. Your mother and I can attest to this. Nothing bad lasts forever, and the sun will always rise eventually.”

It was hard to disappoint your parents, but you did it often. This was hard for you because you were always the kid with the most problems, so on top of being a loser in school, you also had to be the kid sneaking out of the house at midnight and coming home drunk at 4am. But you couldn’t help screwing up.

“I don’t _know_ why I keep doing it,” you yelled at your mother one day when she was clearly at the end of her patience. And you really didn’t. It was a compulsion.

She smiled ruefully and hugged you. “I know you may not believe this, but I know _exactly_ what it’s like to keep doing something you know shouldn’t. Your Mom and I are never going to look the other way when you do something you shouldn’t, baby. We love you too much for that. But I want you to remember that even if we’re upset with something you did, there is nothing you could do to make us stop loving you. We will always love you, no matter what.”

“We can go on this way,” Mom added softly. “You can make mistakes, baby. And we’ll still be here to correct you when you need to be corrected, and we’ll always be here to love you. It’ll always be okay.”

Your parents were always so excessive with the ‘I love you’s and the ‘we may have to punish you, but you still mean everything’s, that you kind of figured they had the kind of parents whom they were afraid to come home to-- but fear was an almost alien concept in your home.

\--

Mom never quite got over your mother’s death, though in time, she did find someone else she loved, which is exactly what your mother would have wanted. Your mother wasn’t the kind of person who could tolerate perpetual mourning. She sang ‘Defying Gravity’ in the shower and borrowed liberally from the pantheon of Disney songs when singing in the car. She liked things to be bright and cheery. She liked yellow umbrellas because she felt like she was railing against dreary weather conditions. Once, when there was too many consecutive days of rain and you and your siblings were confined to the indoors, your mother got butcher paper and painted blue skies, a bright smiling sun and some rolling green hills and taped them to the wall. Then you spent the afternoon rollerskating through your living room with your parents and your siblings. As far as fun days in your family went, that was pretty standard.

\--

You visited Mom one day when you knew she’d be home and Tammy would be out shopping. You like Tammy well enough, but she was so much like your mother that it was a little painful to be around her. You didn’t even have to squint to imagine Tammy as your mother, and anytime Tammy started to get excited and stammered about something that happened to her at work, you had a painful reminder of your mother.

It did, however, prove that your Mom had a type.

You still had key, so you let yourself in.

Your Mom was watching a video of your eighth birthday party. Your Mom was gazing at the television, at your mother captured in time. On TV, your mother was making a goofy face into the camera, laughing and telling your Mom to go away.

“But you’re one of my favorite sights, baby,” Mom murmured from off-camera.

“I don’t blame you, baby, but point that camera elsewhere.”

Mom laughed. “Who knew you would ever say that?”

“Quiet, you,” your mother chided.

It used to gross you out how your parents couldn’t keep their eyes and hands off one another, but now it was comforting to see with unequivocal evidence how in love they were until the day your mother died.

Then the camera was passed on to someone else-- your aunt Santana who loudly groused about the videographer responsibilities.

The camera focused on your parents-- their arms wrapped around each other’s waists, their foreheads pressed against each other. They were smiling and laughing, sharing some private joke. Your aunt Santana made a grossed out noise before she panned the video away.

You don’t need video footage to remember the way your parents would inevitably pull off to the corner for a breather or just to decompress, always together, arms around each other’s waists, foreheads pressed together, murmuring little secrets to one another.

When your mother died, Mom held everything together out of necessity. But you found her huddled in bed one night, clutching your mother’s pillow and sobbing one day, not too long after the funeral. Your brothers were in their room, listening to one CD after another of your mother and your sister was polishing your mother’s awards case and you were trying to figure out how your family could possibly survive the loss of your mother when the one thing the members of your family had in common was the fact you all clamored and vied for her attention.

Your mom was sobbing your mother’s name and in that moment, you were sure your Mom would never get over the loss of your mother-- you were so sure that loss would kill her.

But it didn’t.

Your mom survived, exactly the way your mother would have wanted her to and so did the rest of you. As unthinkable as it was, life and the world carried on without your mother, but the world seemed diminished by that loss.

\--

Your sister moved to California with her actor boyfriends, Robert was in college in Boston and Jonathan was in college in Connecticut, and so you were the only one of your siblings who remained local.

You all worry about Mom, even though she met Tammy. In the days, weeks and months after your mother died, you thought for sure your Mom would have a heart attack even though she wasn’t even forty yet and in perfect health. But she did survive.

Still, the sight of your Mom staring at old video footage of your mother made you freeze a little.

“Hey, Mom,” you said, joining her on the couch. You pass your son to her and she took him eagerly, laughing softly at the way his hands immediately began to pull at her hair.

“Hey Lizzie,” she murmured. She blew a raspberry against your son’s cheek and she hugged him close to her.

You looked at the screen. “What’s with the trip down memory lane, Mom?” you asked lightly.

“I just miss your mother today,” Mom murmured.

You rested your head on her shoulder. “Sorry,” you said, because you had nothing else in your arsenal. What else could you have said? Will you ever get over her, Mom? Because in all honesty, you didn’t like the idea of your mother being left behind, even in memory. But you don’t want your mom to mourn your mother forever either. It was a complicated thing and you were just glad that your mom has found some happiness.

She laughed. “It’s nothing to be sorry about,” she said, playing with your hair. “I was just thinking about her because it’s October and we first became friends around October.”

You laughed, because you know this story.

“In detention,” you declared dramatically. “My mothers were juvenile delinquents.”

“Well, your mother was the one who ripped apart a perfectly good book,” Mom shot back.

“The way she told it, she was just trying to keep from getting in trouble because you kept trying to pass her notes and talk to her.”

Mom was outraged, but then she laughed. “Your mother was the delinquent, ask anyone.”

“I did. Everyone says it was kind of fifty-fifty with you two.”

Mom laughed. “Your mother was amazing,” she said softly. “Even back then.”

You laughed. “She always said you never saw her the way she really was.”

Mom mostly looked sad. “She was wrong,” she said. “I saw her exactly the way she was, exactly for who she was-- good and bad. It was just that with your mother, the good always outweighed the bad. She made mistakes, but your mother had such an amazing heart.”

You smiled. “I know.”

You’re older now, so you’ve reconciled yourself with most of your regrets. You have never been, and never will be perfect. But your parents taught you to be tough, kind, humble and optimistic and so you’ve accepted your life exactly for what it was-- good and bad.

“Nothing bad ever lasts forever, baby,” your mom told you.

“I know.”

It was kind of a family mantra.

Maybe it was because other than your mother dying (which all children eventually have to prepare themselves for), nothing _really_ bad ever happened to you, but you honestly believed that.

You snuggled into your mom, with your son sprawled between you and you stare at your mother on the screen, now instructing a group of groaning party guests in the exact specifications of how she wanted them to sing you and your sister ‘Happy Birthday To You.’

You see everyone look toward the camera at your camera-wielding mom and you can see the collective expressions on their faces begging for reprieve from your hilariously insane mother. Mom chuckled and then the camera moved closer and was passed on to Aunt Brittany who focused the camera on you and Sammie, but your parents were still in the edge of the frame.

“You’re so bossy,” Mom complained good-naturedly.

“Is it so wrong that I want perfection for my children on their birthday even for a rendition of ‘Happy Birthday To You’? That song is still under copyright and the holders of the copyright may seek out--“

“You’re not going to jail for violating copyright, baby, and you know that status is a point of contention. In fact, Justice Brandeis specifically concluded that it is almost certainly not still under copyright. So lay off.”

Your mother grinned, but she still went with it. “But what if I go to jail for it? I’d like to make it worth it, you know. It should really be perfect if I’m going to jail for it.”

Mom grinned. “Baby, if you go to jail, I’ll just have to break you out.”

Your mother’s eyes got shiny. “If you ever break me out of jail, you better make it worthy of an Oscar-winning movie based on the story. It must be worthy of the grudging respect of the lawmen charged with tracking us.”

Mom laughed. “Of course I will, baby,” she murmured. “There’s nothing that could take you away from me for very long.”

Your mother gave Mom one of those secret little smiles they were always exchanging. “Or anyone for that matter,” she added.

“Exactly.”

“Nothing bad ever lasts forever,” your mother said softly.

“No,” Mom agreed softly.

You laughed quietly as you watched your parents on the screen. “My parents, the Pollyannas of Manhattan.”

Mom laughed. “It was your mother’s doing,” she joked. “She infected me with her relentless cheerfulness.”

It was true-- your mother was relentlessly cheerful and it was definitely infectious. In middle school and high school, you tried to be dark and gloomy to set you apart from the rest of your relentlessly cheerful family, but it was in you, too, and you could never pull it off.

You and mom both watched as your mother beamed into the camera. She’s young in the video-- only thirty, but she looked much younger. “I vow to aggressively document all of our family moments,” she declared, then she threw back her head and laughed, which made Mom roll her eyes and laugh, both in the video and in the present with you.

Mom’s voice was quiet when she spoke. “Your mother and I didn’t have very much time together. I wanted so much more,” she said wistfully, and the spark of bitterness rose in your chest as you thought about all the bad people in the world who lived to be a ripe old age, dying in the comfort of their homes while your mother didn’t get to see her fortieth birthday and died too far from home. “But it was enough. When I had your mother, it was always enough.”

Sometimes you felt sorry for Tammy, because your mother was not an easy person to follow or live up to. You didn’t feel this way simply because she was your mother, you felt this way simply because it was just true.

Your relentlessly cheerful mother was all about being kind to people and facing every day with a big smile on your face and so this was what you’ve tried to do.

As you watched the video, you started to miss your mother all over again and you started to feel bad for all the times you yelled and screamed at her and she just took it calmly and told you she loved you. It used to make you furious that it was so hard to get a reaction out of her, but now you admire the way she could stick to her guns and not get overly emotional.

Your mom noticed and so she squeezed your hand. “I wish your mother had more time with us, baby,” she said softly. “But the fact that she was here-- it’s enough.”

You miss her. You all do. But it was true-- just the fact that she was here, it was enough.

You watched the rest of the video and then turned off the TV. It started to rain outside and so you went into the hall closet to pull out the butcher paper drawings your mother made with your mom’s assistance-- the ones with the grinning sun, blue skies and rolling hills. They’re old and falling apart, but the relentless optimism was still there. You pinned them up and then you rollerskated through your parents’ living room, your mom’s hand in one hand and your son’s hand in the other-- your mother’s memory hanging in the air.

It was enough.

Nothing bad lasts forever, and the sun will always rise eventually.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Gravitational Forces  
> 1 http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/57500.html  
> 2 http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/57696.html  
> 3 http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/58103.html  
> 4 http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/58142.html  
> 5 http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/58472.html  
> 6 http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/58847.html  
> 7 http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/59084.html  
> 8 http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/59340.html  
> 9 http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/59624.html  
> 10 http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/59893.html  
> ***Sequel The Sun Will Always Rise  
> http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/60616.html


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